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LUKE SHARP; 


OR, 

NOWLEDGE WITHOUT RELIGION. 


^ STnle of iIXoTiern Hliucatfon. 


BT 


FRA^XIS E: PAGET, M. A. 


BBCTOR OF ELFOKD. 


“ He Hiat hath small understanding, and feareth God, is better than 
C’le who hath much wisdom, and transgresseth the law of the Most 
righ,”— Ecclus. xix. v. 24. 


It 

FROM THB LONDON EDITION. 


\ 


NEW-YORK: 

GENERAL PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL S. S. UNION, ' 

DANIEL DANA Jr. AOENT. 


Depository 20 Jobs btreet. 
1 8 4 G. 


) 



The ensuing tale has been written for the use of lads 
who are just leaving, or who have lately left school, and 
who, on going out to service, or to learn a trade, are sure to 
be exposed to the manifold trials and temptations which the 
devil, the world, and the flesh put in the way of youth, and 
from which there is no escape hut in a Strength Which is 
greater than their own ; — a Strength with Which no God- 
less scheme of mere secular education can supply them, but 
Which will not be wanting where the system of instruction 
has been carried out faithfully on Church Principles, and 
where the mind has been thoroughly imbued with the 
unfashionable truth that “ The Fear of the Lord is the 
beginning of Knowledge." 

Elpokd Eectory, 

Feast of the Nativity of St. John Baptist^ 

1845. 



LUKE SHARP. 


PART I. 

S T was Childermas Day, — the Feast of 
the Holy Innocents, — that day set 
^ _ apart by the Church to teach us that 
even infants may glorify God by their deaths ; 
and to give us an opportunity of reflecting 
on that wicked, worldly spirit which induced 
Herod to become a cruel murderer in his 
attempts to fight against God, and of offering 
up our prayers to the Giver of all good, that 
He would be pleased to mortify and kill all 
vices in us, and so strengthen us by His grace, 
that by the innocency of our lives, and con- 
stancy of our faith unto death (if need be), we 
may glorify His holy Name. 


6 


LUKE SHARP. 


And Childermas Day is a day much thought 
of by the children at Yateshull. Many a festi- 
val there is with respect to which if you ask 
them at what time of year it falls, they will 
not be able to tell you, — at least not without 
thought, and running over some old rhyme, 
which they have heard their parents repeat, 
such as 

“ Bamaby bright, 

All day, no night 

which will suggest the recollection, that the 
feast of St. Barnabas must be in summer, — as 
indeed it is, on the eleventh of June ; or 

“ Bartholomew, 

With his cold dew 

which will bring back remembrance of the 
burning days in the harvest field, and the 
chilly evenings, and the heavy dews hanging 
longer and longer upon the grass, and so fix 
the time of St. Bartholomew’s festival for the 
end of August. 

But there is no such difficulty in remem- 
bering when Childermas day falls. Not a 
child in Yateshull but Avill tell you the mo- 


LUKE SHARP. 


7 


merit, you put the question, that it is the third 
day after Christmas ; for Childermas day is 
a great day indeed with them. 

In former times, when a great deal of weak 
and wicked superstition was mixed up with 
better things, and some of the strange fancies 
of their ancient heathenism yet lingered in the 
minds of our forefathers, they retained the 
notion that some days were lucky and some 
unlucky. This was sad folly, because, as 
Christians, they ought to have considered that 
nothing happens but by God’s appointment, 
and that His Providence is as much extended 
over them that love Him on one day as another. 
However, so it was; and nobody would be 
married, or put on a new suit of clothes, or 
even cut their nails, on Innocents’ day. Nay, 
so far was the prejudice carried, that with 
some persons, whatsoever day in the week that 
festival occurred, Monday, or Tuesday, or any 
other, nothing would they begin on that day 
through the year ensuing. There was, indeed, 
one class of persons to whom this day was a 
very unlucky one, and that was the children, 
for it was the custom to whip them out of 


8 


LUKE SHARP. 


their bed, on the morning of the Innocents’ 
day, in order that, by the infliction of sharp 
pain on themselves, they might, as it was 
alleged, learn to have a compassionate remem- 
brance of the poor babes of Bethlehem. 

But the children at Yateshull in modern 
times had no such silly or uncomfortable asso- 
ciations with Childermas. It was the day. 
of their school feast. That same good Sir 
Geoffrey Yateshull who (as was mentioned 
in a former tale*) founded Yateshull School, 
and set apart the playground, and planted it 
Avith shady trees, provided also, that all the 
children educated on his foundation should be 
supplied with a dinner yearly, on some one of 
the twelve days between the feasts of Christ- 
mas and Epiphany. Accordingly, Childermas 
day had, time out of mind, been set apart for 
that purpose ; and I do belieA^e that its celebra- 
tion gave more pleasure in Yateshull than all 
the other Christmas festivities, as they are 
called, put together. Parents loved to see their 
children enjoying themselves, and to recall 


See “ Tales of Village Children,” Vol. I. p. 218. 


LUKE SHARP. 


9 


their own school-days, when they themselves 
were glad with the joy of childhood, and 
their brows were as yet unfurrowed with sor- 
rows and anxieties. And as for the children, 
they, for a long time previously, were looking 
forward to their festival, and counting the days 
that intervened before its arrival. “Mother, 
it only wants twenty days to our feast;” or 
“ Father, don’t you think it seems a very long 
while to Tuesday week?” were the kind of 
remarks which were to be heard by many r 
fire-side through the month of December, 

And let not the reader suppose that it was 
only the thought of eating and drinking, of 
roast beef, and apple-pie, and plum-pudding, 
that made the Yateshull children so eager for 
Childermas, though, to those who seldom get 
a better meal than potatoes and bacon, and 
very often potatoes alone, a good dinner of 
meat and pudding is by no means a thing to 
be despised : for on that day there was a disr 
tribution of rewards to the scholars of the 
several classes, and many a heart beat with 
eager hope of obtaining some testimony of 
merit, and rarely wa3 any one disappointed iir 


10 


LUKE SHARP. 


that hope whose conscience told him that he 
had. been steadily exerting himself to do his 
best during the preceding year. 

It was Childermas day; and though there 
was a sharp biting frost, and a sprinkling of 
snow on the ground, you might see the hoys 
leaving their homes as soon as it was light, 
and before they had had their breakfast, and 
gathering in knots before the schoolmaster’s 
house. 

“ Well, and what do you come plaguing me 
for, at this time in the morning ? ” Mr. Dilwyn 
would say to them, smiling while he pretended 
to scold. 

“ Please, Sir, we thought perhaps we could 
help you to dress the school.” 

‘‘ Dress the school ? why you have hardly 
given me time to dress myself. Why don’t 
you go and yet your breakfasts ? ” 

“ Oh ! I don’t want any breakfast. Sir,” one 
boy would exclaim, “ if I can be of any use.” 
“ Nor I, — “ Nor I,” joined in a dozen more. 

“ Indeed ? ” the schoolmaster would reply. 
“Nor any dinner, I suppose?” 

The hoys grinned. 


LUKE SHARP. 


11 


‘‘ Well, you may not want any breakfast, 
but / do, and there will be no dressing of the 
school, I can tell you, till I have had mine.’’ 

May we cut up the holly and ivy into 
smaller bunches?” some elder boy would ask, 
pointing to a great heap which had been left 
overnight by the wood cutters ; IVe got a 
knife. Sir.” 

‘‘And please. Sir,” another would inquire, 
“ had not 1 better pick out the boughs with 
the most berries on? the girls always string 
some berries to hang in festoons over their fire- 
place.” 

“ And couldn’t we be bringing the tressels 
and spare forms out of the out-house?” two 
or three more voices would ask eagerly. 

Mr. Dilwyn h^d no chance of a comfortable 
breakfast on Childermas da^q unless he break- 
fasted by candlelight : but what cared the 
kind-hearted old man for that ? Half-scolding, 
half-laughing, he would beckon “ the plagues 
of his life,” as he called them, to the door, and 
giving them a push on the shoulder as they 
passed him, would send them crowding, and 
jostling, and tumbling one over another, into 


12 


LUKE SHARP. 


his kitchen, and supply each with a hunch of 
bread and a draught of milk, in order, as he 
alleged, to save time ; hut really, perhaps, 
because, loving his scholars as if they were his 
children, it was the happiness of his life to 
exercise towards them (wherever their conduct 
allowed him to do so) all the little acts of 
parental kindness which his position gave him 
the opportunity of exercising. 

And now, good reader, you must please to 
imagine for' yourself, for I have a long story 
to tell, and no time for description, how, when 
the meal was ended, master and scholars 
betook themselves to hard work ; how the old 
walls of the school-room were decked with 
holly and ivy, and how wreaths of the same 
material hung down from the oaken rafters of 
the dark, high-pitched roof; how the usual 
furniture of the school was removed, and in 
its place was substituted a long row of tables, 
with their clean white cloths, and seats on 
either side. He must fancy to himself all the 
hurry and bustle (unnecessary, it must be con- 
fessed, but what child loves not to be in a 
bustle ?) and how some boys would get in each 


LUKE SHARP. 


13 


other’s way ; and how some verified the pro- 
verb that ‘‘ most haste is worse speed ; ” and 
how all worked as if their lives depended upon 
the preparations being finished by half-past 
nine o’clock ; and how they next hastened 
home to get on their Sunday clothes, and 
quickly hastened back again to school, each 
with a sprig of holly and ivy in a button-hole 
of his jacket, ready to start for church (for at 
Yateshull we seek the Church’s blessing on all 
we do) as soon as the first chime is heard. 

And at Church there was the service proper 
for the festival of the Holy Innocents. And 
then Mr. Warlingham preached a sermon to 
the children. One only day in all the year, he. 
said, he made it to them exclusively, and 
therefore, as it was very short, and very easy 
to be understood, he intreated them to give 
him their whole attention. After that, he 
spoke to them affectionately of the blessings 
which they enjoyed, and of the duties which 
those blessings involved ; of the trials which 
would await them when they would be 
no longer under the control of parents and 
teachers, and of the absolute necessity there 
2 


14 


LUKE SHARP. 


was that they should devote the best years of 
their life, — their youth as well as their age, — 
to God’s service, if they hoped to be able to 
keep their part of the Baptismal Covenant, 
and to be received hereafter, through their 
Saviour’s merits, into His eternal kingdom in 
heaven. “ And above all things,” said ]\Ir. 
Warlingham, “ remember what I am about to 
say, for we live in times when many have 
forgotten it, and when you are likely to be 
tempted to forget it. Remember this, that 
the object we have in teaching you to read 
and write^ is not first or chiefiy in order to 
help you on in your worldly callings but in 
order that you may learn God’s will^ and 
that having learned it you may do it. ^With- 
out holiness no man shall see the Lord.’ The 
power to read and write is a good or a bad 
thing, according to the purposes to which it is 
turned. If the knowledge you acquire here 
serves only to puff you up, to make you self- 
confident, or vain, or worldly-minded, if you 
put to a bad use acquirements which have 
been bestowed on you in order that with them 
you may glorify God, serve His Cliurch, and 


LUKE SHARP. 


15 


benefit your fellow creatures, it had been better 
for you that you had lived and died blind and 
dumb, or rather that you had never been born. 
The tree of knowledge is not the tree of life. 
And if you receive the knowledge we give 
you, and do not at the same time profit by the 
lessons of religion which are afforded you, — if 
you do not carry out in your daily lives the 
teaching of the Church, then I solemnly warn 
you, that your knowledge will not be a bless- 
ing, but a curse.” 

Some of the lesser boys did not understand 
what Mr. Warlingham meant by this ; but the 
elder ones did, for it was only a repetition of 
what both he and Mr. Dilwyn had said to 
them almost every day of their lives. They 
understood it, and now as they felt the time to 
be drawing more near when they must go into 
the world and shift for themselves, they were 
glad to be reminded of it, and had both a wish 
to profit by the advice, and a hope that they 
should not forget it when their time of trial 
should come. 

But there was one of the elder boys who 
did not feel at all pleased with Mr. W arling- 


16 


LUKE SHARP 


ham’s observations, for he had a very strong 
feeling in favour of the advantages of know- 
ledge, and, unlrappily for himself, he had very 
little sense of religion. Luke Sharp had the 
best head for arithmetic of any boy in the 
school, and no one could approach him in 
penmanship; his writing, as his father often 
told him, was like copperplate, and would be 
a recommendation to a good situation any 
day.” And Luke Sharp was a clever boy in 
other respects : he could turn his hand to any- 
thing, as the saying is ; so for his part he was 
sure it was only prejudice that could make 
anybody speak slightingly of knowledge ; and 
besides, he had often seen Mr. Warlingham’s 
hand- writing, and it was not at all like cop- 
perplate.” 

It any one had asked Luke what he meant 
by ‘^prejudice,” it is very probable that he 
might have been puzzled to find a reply. 
There are people who pick up words just as 
parrots and magpies do, and who use them 
without knowing more of their meaning than 
parrots and magpies. And there are words 
which every now and then come into fashion, 


LUKE SHARP. 


17 


and because they happen to be the fashion, 
are repeated by everybody, and however mis- 
chievous and nonsensical they may be, pass 
current for sense, because people like to be in 
the fashion, and because it is often much 
pleasanter and easier to talk without thinking, 
than to weigh words before they are spoken. 

Luke had caught the word from his father, 
who in his turn had picked it up from some of 
his friends in the Reform Club at Amworth, 
or from some of the Sunday newspapers. 
Whenever anybody differdd from Mr. Sharp 
he was told he was prejudiced. Anything 
which other folks venerated, but which he 
disliked, was sure to be set down as a preju- 
dice. Respect for the opinions of our fore- 
fathers was, in his language, a prejudice ; obe- 
dience to the Church, a prejudice ; scrupulous 
honesty, a prejudice ; unwillingness to 'take 
advantage of the helplessness or simplicity of 
others, a prejudice. 

And Luke, being a shrewd boy, had ob- 
served that many people were afraid of being 
called prejudiced, and so yielded up their 
opinion without more ado ; and further he had 


18 


LUKE SHARP. 


remarked, that on his father’s lips the phrase 
was a very convenient one ; he turned it to 
profitable account, and made it an excuse for 
doing many things for which he might have 
found it hard enough to find any better ex- 
cuse. So Luke thought it would be a good 
plan to adopt the same system, and to try and 
gain his own ends by mocking at what he 
called 'prejudices. And I am sorry to say, he, 
too, found little difficulty in scaring many of 
his school-fellows, and leading them to join 
him in had ways'* when he began to work 
upon their fears of being called “ prejudiced.” 
There were but few of them who had courage 
to tell him that prejudice (that is a preposses- 
sion in favour of, or against a certain thing) 
may be not only harmless, hut to he desired ; 
and that, in some cases, prejudice is a direct 
Christian duty. There were not many boys 
who liked to expose themselves to the pain 
of being laughed at by Luke, or who were 
not afraid of his sharp, bitter gibes. They 
were cowards ; and a coward is a misera- 
ble thing for a hoy to be. A cowardly boy 
almost always makes a cowardly man, and 


LUKE SHARP. 19 

a cowardly man can never be an eminent 
Christian. 

But who was this Luke? laike was the 
son of a man who, at the time when this tale 
commences, was supposed to he growing rich 
faster than anybody else at Yateshull. And 
certainly if thinking of nothing and caring 
for nothing but gaining money, is likely to 
make a man rich, Mr. Sharp, as he now called 
himself, stood a fair chance of becoming 
wealthy. 

Twenty years before, Jerry Sharp had 
been hired as a day labourer, by the per- 
son who rented Yateshull mill. Where he 
came from nobody knew, and why he was 
hired nobody knew, unless his own ac- 
count of the matter was true, that he had 
been so long out of work, that he was glad to 
engage himself for wages which would hardly 
keep a dog alive from week’s end to week’s 
end. His clothes were almost in rags; he 
was pale, and wCak, and half-starved; and 
being too poor to pay for a lodging, he slept 
for many weeks in a stall among the mill 
waggon-horses. 


20 


LUKE SHARP. 


Once established in service, however, his 
* outward appearance began to mend, and it 
was soon evident that for some quality or other 
he had recommended himself to his employer. 
Years rolled on and found him in a more 
thriving condition. He was in the receipt of 
good wages, and had married a woman much 
older than himself, who had the reputation of 
having saved money in service, and was known 
to have received a handsome legacy from a de- 
ceased mistress. She, however, died soon after 
the birth of her only child, Luke. The only 
regret her husband was ever heard to express 
with respect to her death was, that if she had 
lived a few years longer, he should have been 
saved the expense of putting the child out to 
nurse. The fact was, he was now gaining that 
which was more to him than either wife or 
child — money. Money was his idol : to grow 
rich the sole object of his desires : everything 
else was sacrificed to this. And had he been 
content with moderate profits, and a gradual 
increase of income, he might, perhaps, in the 
end have been a rich man, — perhaps , for 
riches make themselves wings, and fly away. 


LUKE SHARP. 


21 


even when seemingly most secure. But 
Jeremiah Sharp was in a hurry to grow rich, 
and so he lent out money on exorbitant in- 
terest, and speculated, as it is called (that is, 
tried to profit by other men’s losses), and did 
all those greedy, grinding, selfish things into 
which men are sure to be betrayed who forget 
that awful warning of Scripture, “ O trust not 
in wrong and robbery, give not yourselves 
unto vanity : if riches increase^ set not yoxvr 
heart xi'pon themP 

At the time when this tale commences 
Jeremiah Sharp did a good deal of business as 
a baker at Yateshull ; he’ also dealt in groceries, 
and such things as are usually found ‘‘ at the 
shop ” in a country village ; and besides this, 
he was part owner of a mill at Amworth, and 
had vested the remainder of his money in a 
mining concern in North Wales, which he 
declared would pay him an interest of twelve 
pounds yearly on every hundred which he laid 
out. Some of his friends suggested to him 
that there must be a risk proportioned to the 
advantage so speciously held out, and that a 
rate of interest so much higher than could be 


22 


LUKE SHARP. 


got elsewhere had a suspicious look with it, 
but Baker Sharp had his answer ready : he 
laughed at their old-world 'prejudices ; leave 
me,” said he, to look after my own affairs. 
I am not one to be taken in easily, I can tell 
you. I have made a trifle already,” he con- 
tinued, thrusting his hand into his pocket, 
and chinking the money which was in it, “ and 
I intend to make a little more before I shut 
up shop, and live like a gentleman.” 

But in spite of all his fine words. Sharp 
was not as confident as he pretended to be. 
Like all other gamblers he was one while full 
of hope, and at another while full of despair, 
now winning and now losing ; and all the 
while devoured by anxiety lest he should 
miss an opportunity, or fail to turn it to the 
best account. In the eyes of the world, and 
perhaps in his own, he was prosperous : but 
the ground on which he stood was hollow ; 
and the money for the sake of which he was 
perilling his soul was not so securely in his 
possession as he supposed it to be. 

Having made the reader so far acquainted 
with this unhappy man’s character, it is almost 


LUKE SHARP. 


23 


unnecessary to add that he was devoid of all 
serious feeling on the subject of religion. No 
man, indeed, who loves money, can be ac- 
counted a Christian before God, or hope to 
attain a place in heaven, because He has dis- 
tinctly told us that “ covetousness is idolatry,” 
and that “ all idolaters shall have their part in 
the lake which burneth with fire and'"hrim- 
stone.” But many a covetous, money-loving 
man goes through life decently, has a good 
moral character, preserves a fair outside, and 
is esteemed a respectable person, and is rather 
popular than otherwise. But evefi this was 
not the case with Sharp. Many feared him, 
but no one loved him. Most of his neigh- 
bours were afraid to quarrel with him, for he 
was known to be of a spiteful, unforgiving 
temper, but none of them would be on fami- 
liar terms with him, for his purse-proud airs 
made him very ofiensive to them. To those 
above him he was servile and cringing ; to his 
equals rude and overbearing ; to those beneath 
him harsh and unmerciful. Of course, there- 
fore, he joined himself in politics to those who, 
while they profess themselves eager advocates 


24 


LUKE SHARP. 


of what they call liberty, desire in their hearts 
to bring about a revolution which shall uproot 
the whole fabric of society, and involve high 
and low in sulfering and misery. He called 
himself a Churchman, but he never entered 
the Church; and when Mr. Warlingham ex- 
postulated with him on his conduct, he replied 
that Sunday was the only day in the week on 
which he had leisure to make up his books, 
and added that if he was to be interfered with 
he should join the Dissenters, and may be 
build a dissenting chapel on his own land. 
Mr. Sharp, in short, like many more of his 
class at the present day, was one who thought 
that he had a full right to do whatever he 
pleased, so long as he paid his way. And he 
had done all he could to make his son Luke 
like himself. 

The reader must forgive this long inter- 
ruption of the course of our tale, (for without 
a previous explanation with respect to the 
character of Luke’s father, much of what 
follows would be unintelligible,) and he may 
imagine, if he will, that, during its progress, 
the school-children huve returned from church. 


LUKE SHARP. 


25 


and that the dinner is smoking on the school- 
room tables. Plenty of mouths are ready for 
roast beef, and plenty of hands to carve it, 
and hand it about, and serve the potatoes, 
and fill the mugs with beer ; for all the neigh- 
bours make a point of coming to be useful at 
the school dinner. Three or four of the 
ladies in the squire’s family, and the church- 
wardens and their wives and daughters, and 
several others were standing by the fire talk- 
ing and laughing as neighbours will who are 
living comfortably together, happy among 
themselves, and happy in making others so, 
and thankful to meet each other once again 
on an occasion on which many of them have 
met every year since they were children. 

And then Mr. Warlingham comes in, and 
says grace, and then all are seated, and there 
begins such a clattering of dishes, and rattling 
of knives and forks, and such a jabbering of 
merry tongues, as I suppose could scarcely be 
imagined by any one who has never been 
present on such an occasion. And joint after 
joint of beef disappears, till the caiwers’ arms 
begin to ache, and they wonder where so 
3 


26 


LUKE SHARP. 


much meat goes to. Where indeed ! down 
some hundred and fifty throats, all engaged 
in swallowing as fast as they can swallow, the 
owners of the said throats apparently thinking 
that the more beef they can eat, the fairer 
claim have they on the apple pie and plum- 
pudding, which are to follow it. And strange 
to say, they are not the biggest boys, who 
have most room for it, but the little boys, who 
have least, that consume the largest amount 
of food. 

I say, Bobby Ball, how you are stuffing 
and cramming ! You’ll he sick by and by. 
I’m sure.” 

Sick ! no more sick than yourself, Ned ; 
mother told me to be sure and eat a good 
dinner.” 

“ Why, you had three helpings to beef ! ” 

“Well?” 

“ And twice to potatoes.” 

“ No, only once to potatoes.” 

“ And twice to apple pie.” 

“Well?” 

“ And two great lumps of pudding.” 

“Well?” 


LUKE SHARP. 


27 


‘‘ And you haven’t done yet ? ” 

‘‘^Well?” grunted Bobby in an injured tone, 
as he bolted the last morsel. 

“ And may be you’ll ask for another help- 
ing.” 

“ Well,” Bobby would have said, but some- 
thing at that moment gave him a sudden turn ; 
he grew pale ; felt ‘ very queer ; ’ ‘all no-how ; ’ 
drank some water; gasped; and sat silent; 
and did 71 ot ask for another helping. 

Well, gluttony is a disgusting thing, and 
though there may be an excuse for it in the 
case of a poor little lad who hardly ever had 
the opportunity of taking a full meal, and 
who only tasted beef and plum-pudding once 
a year, still we must remember that it is just 
at the very time when we have unusual oppor- 
tunities and temptations that we are most 
especially bound to watch over ourselves. 
And there are many of us, it is to be feared, 
who have not Bobby Ball’s excuse, but who, 
nevertheless, are a great deal too anxious about 
what we shall eat, and what we shall drink ; — 
who think lightly of the sin of gluttony ; who 
do not bear in mind that gluttony is one of 


28 


LUKE SHARP. 


those sinful lusts of the flesh which we re- 
nounced at our baptism ; that it was for a 
meal that Adam was cast out of Paradise ; 
that the Christian must be “ temperate in all 
things;” that his life must be a life of self- 
denial, and that the way to learn to be self- 
denying in great things, is to deny ourselves 
continually and habitually in little things. 

“It is necessary,” says good Bishop Wil- 
son, “ that we should deny ourselves in little 
and indifferent things, when reason and con- 
science, which is the voice of God, suggest it 
to us, as ever we hope to get the ride over our 
own will.” 

“ Say not, it is a trifle,” he continues, “ and 
not fit to make a sacrifice of to God. He that 
will not sacrifice a little affection, will hardly 
offer a greater. It is not the thing, but the rea- 
son and manner of doing it, namely for God’s 
sake, and that I may accustom myself to obey 
His voice, that God regards, and rewards with 
gi’eater degrees of grace.” 

Dinner is over ; the tables cleared away ; 
the boys drawn up in their respective places, 
a circle of chairs set for the ladies, and Mr. 


LUKE SHARP. 


29 


arlingham is standing at the desk usually 
occupied by Mr. Dilwyn, arranging before him 
a goodly array of books, and knives, and such 
things as boys love to possess, and which form 
the usual articles of distribution on such occa- 
sions. Many were the eager looks, and sup- 
pressed exclamations as one after another each 
separate reward, neatly ticketed, was brought 
out of the basket beside him, arid placed so as 
to be ready when wanted. 

“ My good young friends,” said he, (and 
T am glad to say that I think in the main you 
deserve the title, though the best of you is 
far from what he ought to be, and the bet- 
ter he becomes the worse will he learn to 
think of himself), I have said so much to you 
in my sermon this morning on the duties of 
Christian children, that I shall make no fur- 
ther remarks to you on that subject. I will 
only repeat that as you in this place have 
advantages which thousands of children in 
this country have not, so will God require far 
more at your hands. He will judge you with 
a stricter judgment, and will call you to a 
more severe account than others. In proper- 


30 


LUKE SHARP. 


tion as knowledge has been given 37-011, will 
He expect that 3rou make a good use of it, and 
not turn it as so many do, to their own 
destruction. And when I say a good use of 
it, I mean that you should use it in those 
wa3’-s only which ye know will be pleasing to 
Him ; in those ways only in which it will help 
you to learn and labour truly, and do your 
duty in that state of life to which it may 
please Him to call you. When you have 
learned all that we can teach you here, you 
will still he very ignorant in many respects, 
and very indiiferent scholars, so that the 
cleverest and quickest of you will have no 
reason to he vain of his acquirements, nor to 
pride himself upon what he knows, nor to 
think that he has any thing to boast of ; and 
yet I hope that there will be none of you that 
leaves us without being thoroughly instructed 
in that which is the beginning of all wisdom, 
and without which all wisdom is valueless or 
worse, — namely the fear of the Lord ; I hope 
there Avill be none who have not been taught 
to love and reverence and obey the Church, 
Who is the Mother of us all; I hope there 


LUKE SHARP. 


31 


will be none who have not been taught that 
the one great object for which they have been 
sent into the world is to work out their own 
salvation with fear and trembling, and that 
nothing is of consequence compared with 
that. It may be well for you to endeavour to 
get on, as it is called, in the world; it may 
be well that you should turn your talents 
to account by cultivating such branches of 
worldly knowledge as may be of use to you in 
your future callings, but these things will 
never bring you to heaven : there is only one 
thing which by God’s mercies in Christ 
Jesus will enable you to arrive there, namely, 
such a knowledge of His will as inspires you 
to obey Him in all things. ‘Wisdom is a 
defence,’ saith the wisest of men, ‘ and money 
is defence; but the excellency of knowledge,’ 
that is religious knowledge, ‘ is, that wisdom 
giveth life to them that have it.’ 

“And now,” continued Mr. Warlingham, 
“ I shall proceed to reward those among you 
whom Mr. Dilwyn has reported to me as 
deserving some mark of approval for their dili- 
gence, obedience, and good conduct generally. 


32 


LUKE SHARP. 


How much pleasanter is it to reward than to 
punish ! I can never grow tired of rewarding ; 
the more there are to be rewarded the better 
pleased am I ; and, as I often tell you, the 
greater the number of those whom we see tak- 
ing pains, the greater will be the number of 
rewards distributed. Acting upon this rule, I 
am glad to say that there are no less than six 
boys in the first class to whom I shall give 
a prize : Harry Martin, Edward Smith, Job 
Wilcox, Thomas Green, Edwin Dunn, John 
Page, and liUke Sharp. And first, Harry 
Martin.” 

With glowing cheeks and sparkling eyes 
Harry approached the desk. 

“ Martin,” said the Vicar, ‘‘ it is a subject of 
great sorrow to me to think that this is the 
last reward, which as a school-boy, you will 
ever receive at my hands ; for you have now 
arrived at an age when it is necessary you 
should learn the trade by which you are to 
get your future livelihood. You have now 
been at school six or seven years, you have 
worked your way up from the last place in the 
last class to the first place in the first, and I 


LUKE SHARP. 


33 


believe that in each class through which you 
have passed you have carried otf a prize, 
And you deserve the more credit for this, be- 
cause you had not nearly so much natural 
talent as many of your rivals; nevertheless 
by your diligence, steadiness, and the pains you 
have taken with yourself, you have at length 
distanced them all. That, however, which 
has gamed for you the esteem of Mr. Dilwyn 
and myself, is this, that we have seen you 
thankfully following our advice, getting the 
mastery over your faults, trying to form your 
own character according to what you have 
been taught that a Christian should be : and 
lastly, endeavouring both by your influence 
and your example to make your companions 
industrious, well-behaved boys. I am not 
afraid of praising you, for 1 know you to be 
a modest boy, and one who feels that as yet 
you have only made a beginning, and that 
there is no time on this side the grave in 
which you must not be daily endeavouring to 
improve yourself, I therefore do not hesitate to 
tell you that your removal from school will be 
a great loss to us, and that it would be a 3till 


34 


LUKE SHARP. 


greater if I was not aware that you are likely 
to live at Yateshull, and did not feel satisfied 
that you would set as good an example in this 
village as you have in the school. I now 
make you a present of Izaak Walton’s Lives ; 
and I hope by the blessing of God, you will 
be enabled to become as pious and wise, as 
just and true, as humble and self-denying, as 
charitable and simple-minded, as good in the 
various relations of life, as loyal a subject, 
as dutiful a churchman, as devout a Christian, 
as in their respective generations were those 
holy men, whose lives I now recommend you 
to make the model of your own.” 

When Mr. Warlingham had commenced 
this address the thought came into Harry 
Martin’s mind that he ought to endeavour to 
thank him and Mr. Dilwyn for all the kind- 
ness they had shown him during so many 
years, but, as the Vicar went on, and thoughts 
of the past and future rose up before Harry’s 
imagination, he felt a lump rising in his throat, 
and the tears filled his eyes, and before Mr- 
Warlingham had done, they were trickling 
down his face, so that when the moment for 


LUKE SHARP. 


35 


speaking came, speak he could not. He took 
the book, and bowed, and began to falter out 
some expression of gratitude, but the words 
seemed to choke him. 

The Yicar saw the struggle, understood it, 
and kindly relieved him. “ Well, well,*’ said 
he as he laid his hand on Harry’s head, “ I 
believe 1 know what you would say, and you 
can come and say it, if you like, by-and-by. 
There is Edward Smith getting quite impa- 
tient, I dare say, to know what prize we have 
in store for him.” 

And then Edward Smith was called up, and 
some kind words of encouragement spoken to 
him. After he had received his reward, the 
others, each in turn, were summoned to the 
desk, and received their appropriate commend- 
ations, mingled with such kind advice, or 
kind exhortations to increase diligence, or 
admonitions with respect to some point on 
which they were defective, as the character 
of the boy addressed seemed to require. At 
length it came to Luke Sharp’s turn, who had 
been shifting his position uneasily, now stand- 
ing on one leg, and now on another, with 


36 


LtJKn: SHARP. 


a look of vexation and impatience, from the 
moment that he had heard his own name 
the last on the list. He had not expected 
to be first, but he had made sure of being 
second. 

“ Luke Sharp,” said the Vicar, addressing 
him, “ Mr. Dilwyn thinks that you have some 
claim for a reward on the ground that you are 
the best writer and accountant in the school. 
And when Mr. Dilwyn makes a recommenda- 
tion of this kind, I am not apt to be unwilling 
to attend to it. If, however, I do give you a 
reward, I shall mark my opinion that ^mu 
hardly deserve it, by taking care that it is of 
far less value than the other prizes, and by 
thus publicly stating that I set no store upon 
cleverness when it is not attended with those 
liigher qualities which can alone make a man 
happy here or hereafter.” 

Luke was not one of those persons who 
are troubled with shyness, or who are afraid 
to speak in their own defence. “ Please Sir, 
1 dont know what I have done. I am sure 
I can read as well as any of the other boys ; 
and I can learn by heart quicker, and write 


LUKE SHARP. 


37 


and sum better than Edward Smith, to whom 
you have given the second prize.” 

“ It may be so,” replied Mr. Warlingham. 
“ I do not doubt it.” 

“Please Sir, will you look at my copy 
book,” said Luke, gaining confidence as he 
went on. And then he muttered something 
of which only one word reached the Vicar’is 
ear, — ‘ unjust.’ 

“What is unjust?” asked Mr. Warlingham. 

“ It seems very hard, very unjust, that such 
a difference should be made between me and 
Smith.” And he held out his copy book. 

“ That is your copy book, is it?” asked the 
Vicar. “ Now give me Smith’s, and Martin’s, 
and all the other boys’ who have just received 
prizes.” They were handed to him, and he 
spread them out where all the company could 
see them. 

“Yes,” he said, after a hasty comparison, 
“ I think you say no more than truth : I con- 
sider your writing the best. And you inform 
me, Mr. Dilwyn, that this boy is quicker 
at his arithmetic, than any one of your pre- 
sent pupils?” 


4 


38 


LUKE SHARP 


The schoolmaster intimated his assent. 

“ And he learns by heart more rapidly, 
because with greater ease, than the others ?” 

He does, Sir,” was Mr. Dilwyn’s reply. 

“ He is quick and clever at his other tasks, is 
he not ? ” 

“ He can do any thing he pleases, when he 
chooses to take the trouble,” answered Mr. 
Dilwyn. 

Very well,” continued the Vicar. ‘‘ Now 
then, as to his general conduct. Is he regular 
in his attendance at church and school ? ” 

“At school he is generally regular; from 
church he is frequently absent without leave.” 

“ What is his excuse?” 

“He says his father keeps him at home to 
help him in his accounts.” 

“I heartily wish, then,” replied the Vicar, 
“ that he did not know so much of arithmetic 
as that two and two make four. But now as 
to his behaviour in church, is he reverent and 
devout ? ” 

“ I am sorry to say, Sir, that he is much the 
reverse, and I have had frequent complaints 
that when my eye has been off him, which is 


LUKE SHARP. 


39 


as seldom as possible, — a sure sign I cannot 
trust him — he is attem])ting to make those 
around him behave ill.” 

If he can so act in God’s immediate pre- 
sence, I can have little hope of him elsewhere. 
Is he steady and to be trusted at school ? ” 

Mr. Dihvyn shook his head. 

“ Is he truthful ? ” inquired the Yicar. 

“Twice, in the course of the last year, T 
have detected him in falsehood. And in sins 
of the tongue generally I fear he is a frequent 
transgressor. I hear him use bad words, I am 
sorry to say, not rarely.” 

“ And yet, Mr. Dilwyn, in spite of all this, 
you have recommended him for a reward.” 

“ I did so. Sir, as I apprized you, solely on 
the ground that he is superior to the boys in 
his class in those particular attainments to 
which reference has been made, and because 
he has certainly taken considerable pains to 
acquire a proficiency in them.” 

“ Now then, boys,” said the Vicar, “ I sup- 
pose you all understand why Luke Sharp has 
the lowest prize of all, and why 1 have had 
considerable doubt about bestowing one of any 


40 


LUKE SHARP. 


kind upon him. I am unwilling to give any 
encouragement to those who, having talents, 
abuse them, or who satisfy themselves with 
acquiring mere knowledge, and make no 
efforts to correct their faults, or to keep those 
awful vows which were made in their names 
at their baptism. Have you anything more to 
say for yourself. Sharp ? ” 

It seems very hard”. . . .Luke began, 
and then stopped. 

“What seems hard?” asked Mr. Warling- 
ham, sternly. • 

“ I’m sure I’m no worse than others,” an- 
swered the boy, a good deal abashed, but still 
set upon excusing himself. 

“ Yes,” replied the Yicar, “ you are worse 
than others,” both because you know your 
duty better, and neglect it more. There is 
the reward, such as it is, which I allot you 
as a good writer and accountant ; but remem- 
ber this, you will receive no reward what- 
ever on any future occasion unless you have 
some further claim upon us than your present 
proficiency; and I very solemnly warn you 
that unless you make a better use of your 


LUKE SHARP. 


41 


talents than you have yet done, those talents 
will be your ruin and curse instead of a 
blessing.” 

The Vicar held out a penknife. For a mo- 
ment liUke was inclined to refuse it, for his 
pride was wounded : but he dared not, and 
then he thought within himself, that, after all, 
something was better than nothing ; so he 
took the knife sullenly, expressed no thanks, 
and retiring to his place drew behind the other 
boys. 

As soon as Mr. Warlingham was occupied 
with another class, Edward Smith, the boy 
who had received the second prize, approached 
Luke with the new gilt-edged Prayer-book in 
his hand, and whispered in his ear, “ Luke, 
1 know you write better than I do, and sum 
too, so I should like to change the rewards, 
if you please. Here, you just take the Prayer- 
book, and hand me over the knife, and then it 
will be all right.” So saying the generous- 
hearted boy proffered the prize, which at that 
moment he certainly valued more than any 
other of his possessions. 

But Luke pushed him roughly aside. Get 


42 


LUKE SHARP. 


away with you ! ” said he, in a loud sulky 
whisper. “ I dont want your books. You’re 
the master’s favourite. I hate favourites, and 
I hate you ! ” And then he pushed back into a 
darker corner, and stood there apart, till the 
business of the day Avas over, when avoiding 
all his school-fellows he slunk home, and as 
he saw them jumping and capering along, and 
heard their merry laughs, it was all bitterness 
and vexation to him. 

And when he entered the house, he ran up 
stairs into his bed- room, shut to the door, and 
then hurst into tears. But they were tears of 
rage and wounded vanity, not of penitence and 
contrition. 

The same evening, when his father re- 
turned from market, and asked to see the 
prize which his son had carried off, and which 
he made no doubt would he a handsome one, 
he was met with a well concocted story of 
injustice and favouritism, in Avhich, by sup- 
pressing some facts, and perverting others, 
Luke made it appear that he had been very 
hardly used, and that while, by their own con- 
fession, the Vicar and schoolmaster allowed 


LUKE SHARP. 


43 


him to have distinguished himself more than 
any boy in the school, they had, owing to 
some 'prejudice against him, withheld from 
him what was his due.” 

Ah ! it’s all prejudice,” exclaimed the 
baker, with a shocking oath, it’s all jobbing, 
or favouritism that carries the day. High 
time there was a change : merit has no chance. 
I was sure you would be spited, just because 
I voted against a church-rate. Well, never 
mind, Luke; I’ve cash enough to enable you 
to hold up your head by-and-by above the 
whole pack of them.” 

“ Well, father, if you’re satisfied, I’m sure I 
don’t care for any of them. But I can’t see 
any good that’s likely to come of my staying 
on at school.” 

This was true enough, though not exactly 
in the sense in which Luke meant it. He 
was not likely to do any good at school, or 
elsewhere, while he continued as he was. 
What he wished to imply, however, was that 
he had learned all that could be learned at 
Yateshull; for he was beginning to feel that 
he had no chance of securing credit there, or 


44 


LUKE SHARP. 


retrieving his character; and, besides, some 
grand notions were taking possession of his 
mind, such as that restraint was irksome, and 
that he should like to have done with school 
altogether, and that in a few years more he 
would be a man, and though not quite a man 
yet, he was something more than a boy, — or at 
least would be when he had left school. 

I was saying, father,” continued Luke, 
unwilling that his last remark should be lost, 
“ I was saying I don’t see what I am to gain 
by staying on longer at Yateshull school. 1 
can heat all the boys there, and old Dihvyn 
won’t put himself out of his way to teach me 
more than the others.” 

‘‘ How old are you ? ” inquired the father. 

“ I shall be fifteen next November.” 

“ Aye, you are but just fourteen.” 

“ I am two whole months older than four 
teen,” observed Luke, resolved to make the 
most of his years. 

111 tell you what, .lad,” said baker Sharp, 
“ I don’t intend to take you into the business 
for a year or two : you’re too young : but I’ll 
tell you what I’ll do, you shall go to your 


LUKE SHARP. 


45 


mother’s brother at Birdsley, and we’ll enter 
you for a twelvemonth at the great school that 
is just opened there. There you’ll have a fair 
chance, I know ; and we’ll soon see if you 
don’t carry all before you. And I’ll give old 
Dilwyn a bit of my mind for his shameful 
conduct to you. That I will, my boy, as sure 
as my name is Jerry Sharp.” 


LUKE SHARP. 


PART II. 



IRDSLEY is one of those miserable 
(1^ places from which England draws 
the wealth which makes her the 
envy of the other nations of the earth, and 
which is rapidly causing her to become the 
most guilty of all the countries that have for- 
gotten God, and have brought down upon 
themselves in certain retribution the outpour- 
ings of His vengeance. 

Birdsley is a manufacturing town. The dis- 
trict in which it is built is full of coal and 
iron, and in an evil hour the discovery was 
made that Birdsley presented greater advan- 
tages in this respect than any other locality in 
the neighbourhood. The consequence is, that 


LUKE SHARP. 


47 


what was a little straggling village of two or 
three hundred inhabitants some five-and-forty 
years ago, is now a large town, containing 
from fifteen to twenty thousand souls. Its 
pleasant fields are covered with cfowded alleys ; 
its air, once so pure, is now made dark and 
oppressive with the smoke of furnaces; its 
quiet sounds of country life are exchanged for 
the ceaseless noise of machinery ; and railroads 
and steam engines now occupy the sites of 
green lanes, and ancient homesteads. 

But this is not the worst part of the change. 
The orderly, well-conditioned villagers have 
been supplanted by a body of turbulent, reck- 
less, poverty-stricken miners and mechanics, 
sunk, for the most part, in the depths of igno- 
rance and vice. 

For they to whom the soil belonged, and 
they whose coal and iron brought thousands 
and tens of thousands into their pockets yearly, 
though calling themselves Christians, and pro- 
fessing to believe that they must one day stand 
before the judgment seat of God, made no 
provision for the spiritual welfare of those 
crowds of their fellowmen by whose labours 


48 


LUKE SHARP. 


they were enriched. They paid them their 
wages, and seemed to suppose that that was 
all that was required of them. They treated 
them like beasts of burden, and as if they had 
no higher destiny than to work for them till 
the^T- were worn out, and then to perish like 
the brutes. Churchmen, too, they called them- 
selves: but they built no new churches or 
schools to receive the teeming population. No 
endowments did they provide for additional 
clergy to instruct them. 

And so the end has been that the mass of 
the people at Birdsley are of no religion what- 
ever. It is not a question between the Church 
and dissent: they are nothing. They are 
without God in the world; they neither love 
Him, nor fear Him, nor know Him. Only His 
Name is familiar to them as something which 
they mingle with their curses, and with which 
they blaspheme. 

A few dissenting chapels have risen up, 
Ranters, Baptists, and such like ; and the 
Roman Catholics have of late gained many 
converts; and every year heresy and schism 
become more active and energetic. The 


LUKE SHARP. 


49 


Church alone seems as if she could not make 
her voice to be heard. A single clergyman, 
with an income of seventy pounds, — a weakly 
person, doing all the good he can, but worn out 
with the labours and anxieties of his appa- 
rently hopeless task, surrounded with persons 
ready to oppose him wherever the opportunity 
arises, receiving no countenance or support 
from the upper classes, — (for the gentry all left 
the neighbourhood when the smoke began to 
come forth from the tall chimneys), — such is 
the spectacle which Birdsley exhibited at this 
period; and there are still many Birdsleys in 
England. 

About two years before our tale commences 
there had been a great deal of rioting among 
the colleries and iron works in the Birdsley 
district. The people were half-starved; and 
knowing no better, — having been taught no- 
thing of the duty of obedience to the laws of 
God and man, they readily listened to, and 
became the tools of, certain seditious persons, 
who hoped to profit by the confusion arising 
from insurrectionary movements. Many out- 
rages had been committed, houses set on fire 
5 


50 


LUKE SHARP. 


or razed to the ground, shops pillaged, and 
liquor-vaults broken into. Then the military 
had been called in, and a conflict had taken 
place, in which lives had been lost ; and then, 
as is always the case under such circum- 
stances, order had been restored, and the poor, 
ignorant, deluded people found out how they 
had been deceived, and returned to their usual 
round of exhausting labour, and to their more 
accustomed vices. 

But these events, taken in conjunction with 
others which happened about the same time, 
awakened the anxiety of the rulers of the 
country ; and it needed no prophet to tell 
them what must come at last, if the great 
body of labouring men in the manufacturing 
districts were to be left without instruction of 
any kind, and if thousands and tens of thou- 
sands of heathens, who neither feared God nor 
regarded man, were occupying the face of a 
once Christian country. 

There was a sure remedy for the evil, but 
they missed finding it ; or if they found it they 
were too cowardly or worldly-minded to use 
it. If they had given to Birdsley, with its 


LUKE SHARP. 


51 


20,000 souls, the same proportion of spiritual 
advantage which it had when its population 
was three hundred, — if they had built twenty 
churches, and schools, and appointed twice 
twenty clergymen to assume the pastoral 
office, — there would, in the course of a few 
years, have been an end of the gross ignorance 
and open profligacy which was now unchecked 
at Birdsley. But this they were afraid to do. 
They were afraid of giving offence to the Dis- 
senters ; they were afraid of making the 
Church too powerful ; they were afraid of 
asking Parliament for so much money as 
would be requisite to effect all this, and of 
being themselves thought no better than mad- 
men if they should be bold enough to do what, 
nevertheless, they knew to be right. So they 
contented themselves with sending down an 
officer of their own to inquire into matters. 

And he did inquire, and reported that the 
proper thing to do was to establish a police 
force, and set up a new school upon a new 
system ; that he did not find that the people 
had any eagerness for more churches, which 
was, in his mind, a sign that no more churches 


52 


LUKE SHARP. 


were wanted ; and that it was best to leave 
the people to ‘build churches or chapels for 
themselves, and not to interfere with any 
man’s religious opinion by seeming to give 
more encouragement to one form of religious 
belief than another. 

Miserable, most miserable advice ! And its 
fruit will be seen by any one who walks 
through the streets of Birdsley on a Sunday. 
For what is the sight that then presents itself? 
A few of the better dressed shopkeepers will 
be observed wending their way to the parish 
church ; a more numerous assemblage will 
be approaching the dissenting places of wor- 
ship ; hut to the mass of the people Sun- 
day will be no holy day ; it will be a mere 
day of idleness or noisy excitement. You 
will meet men singly or in groups, wandering 
about in their working aprons and caps, or 
with dirty shirt-sleeves tucked up, and coal- 
blackened arms, and grimed faces. Some 
look haggard and but half awake, as if they 
had been up all night, — probably at work, 
to recover the time lost by their idleness in the 
early part of the past week, — perhaps drink- 


LUKE SHARP. 


53 


ing. Women in their working dresses stand- 
ing about at doors or ends of passages, with 
folded arms. Grown lads playing at marbles, 
or chuck-farthing. And then the children ! the 
wretched, pale-faced, hapless-looking children ! 
Some quarrelling and fighting, bad words and 
bloody faces ; some sitting on rubbish heaps ; 
some squatting in holes in the ground, play- 
ing at mining; some tormenting a cat or a 
pig, or rolling together on the road, boys and 
girls promiscuously, dirty, ragged, with their 
long uncombed hair hanging about their faces. 
No merriment, no laughter, no smiles, — none 
of the natural ways of happy village chil- 
dren,— but squallid disorder, indifference, and 
utter waste in self-disgust of the day of which 
in every sense they should make the most.* 
The people at Birdsley want no churches, 
no clergy, no religious instruction, for the 
mass of them have been left so long with- 
out these advantages that they have lost all 
sgnse of their value. They desire them no 
more than the most benighted heathen does; 

* See Report of the Children’s Employment Commission, 
Q. 22. xvi 


54 


LUKE SHARP. 


and, as in the case of the heathen, the Gospel 
must first be preached among them without 
their seeking for it; it is vain waiting till 
they inquire after that which can have no 
attractions for them. In this case the supply 
must precede the demand. 

At the time of which we are speaking a 
godless scheme was just brought into fashion 
of educating children without religion. Know- 
ledge was to do every thing, or if not quite 
that, it was at least to do so much, that reli- 
gion was not to be the first thing thought of. 
And then it was discovered that if nothing 
was said about religion, or rather about the 
doctrines of religion, children of all sects 
could be educated together. And this was 
thought to be a very convenient and expe- 
dient plan for large towns. 

So the schools were set up, and clever mas- 
ters appointed to the charge of them, who not 
only taught the children to read and write 
and cast accounts, but gave them lessons in 
geography, and chronology, and twenty other 
things, which are all very good in their way, 
though, perhaps, not likely to be of much use 


LUKE SHARP. 


55 


to poor children. The one things hoxcever^ 
tohich was really needful was omitted. Great 
professions indeed were made by those who 
set up these schools that they desired nothing 
better than that the children should be reli- 
gious, but religion was a thing which their 
parents should teach them at home, or which 
might be inculcated upon them for an hour 
or two weekly by their respective ministers. 
The use of the Bible was not wholly forbid- 
den : such children as chose to read it might 
do so, but the master was not allowed to ex- 
plain it in any way which could be more 
favourable to the opinions of one sect than of 
another. The consequence of this was, that 
in such a place as Birdsley, where many of 
the parents were utterly unqualified to teach 
their children, and where many of them had 
no ideas on the subject of, or respect for re- 
ligion, the children of those who professed 
themselves to be of no religious persuasion 
(and they were not a few) received nothing 
deserving the name of religious instruction, 
and even those who were attended to by their 
respective ministers were only instructed 


56 


tUKE SHARP. 


superficially and inadequately. How was 
it possible, for instance, that the Curate of 
Birdsley could take upon himself the duties 
of a schoolmaster, in addition to all those 
which had already worn him out and ruined 
his health? 

There were many people, however, who 
did not see the matter in this point of view. 
It was sufficient for them that large school- 
houses of imposing appearance had been 
raised in the town, that the schools were well 
filled, that Mr. Hampden was a very clever 
man, and taught the children many things 
that never were taught before, that he brought 
them on wonderfully in writing and arithmetic, 
and made them able to answer all manner of 
questions, — how many miles it was from the 
sun to the moon, and why apples fell to the 
ground instead of flying up to the clouds, and 
such like, — and above all, that the regularity 
and order which he maintained were wonder- 
ful. Accordingly, Mr. Hampden and Birds- 
ley school became the talk of the country, 
and thither, on the strength of some slight 
acquaintance with Mr. Hampden, and of the 


LUKE SHARP. 


57 


great number of clever boys whom be “ turned 
out,” did Jerry Sharp send his son Luke, in 
order, as he said, “ to be finished.” 

Birdsley school was just the place for such 
a boy as Luke Sharp. He had precisely the 
kind of talent which an establishment of that 
kind could not fail to bring out. Shrewd, 
quick-witted, ready, with plenty to say for 
himself, and an intelligent, though not open 
countenance, Luke only needed the acquire- 
ments of a few showy branches of knowledge 
to become one of the most promising boys (at 
least according to Mr. Hampden’s view of 
things) in the school. These he soon mas- 
tered, and then he carried away prize aftep 
prize, and was continually pointed out to 
visitors as “a most favourable specimen of 
what the new system will do for boys.” 

And what had it really done for him ? It 
had confirmed him in every sinful habit which 
he had before ; it had encouraged the growth 
of others, which at Yateshull had hardly shown 
themselves; it had deadened what little he 
had in him of religious principle, by showing 
him how little religion was accounted of iir 


68 


LUKE SHARP. 


the fashionable system of education ; it had 
filled his mind with the notion that it was 
better to he clever than to he good ; that not 
‘‘ the fear of the Lord,” but how to get on in 
the world, and take care of one’s own interests 
are the beginning of wisdom; or in plain 
words, that the tree of knowledge is better 
than the tree of life. 

“Well, Ned, and how are you getting on?” 
inquired Luke of that same Edward Smith 
with whom the reader has been made ac- 
quainted already, — for Luke usually spent 
his holidays at Yateshull, and a year had now 
elapsed since he had been entered at the 
Birdsley school, — how are you getting on 
with old Dilwyn yonder? Just in the old 
humdrum way, 1 suppose. Catechism, Bible- 
lesson, Catechism : Bible-lesson, Catechism, 
Bible-lesson. That was how it used to be, 
was it not ? ” 

“ No, Luke, you know that as well as I do. 
It is not so long since you left us. And you 
remember quite well that we learned to do 
many things besides read the Bible, and 


LUKE SHARP. 


69 


say the Catechism,” replied Smith colour- 
ing up, for he did not like to hear things 
which he was used to reverence slightingly 
spoken of. 

“ Well, I know one thing, I never learned 
anything worth knowing while I was at Yates- 
hull school.” 

“Where did you learn to write?” asked 
Smith. “You used to think a great deal of 
your writing formerly.” 

It was now Luke’s turn to colour up, for 
this question of Smith’s was a kind of home 
thrust from which there was no escape. He 
was silent for a moment, but soon recovered 
his wonted assurance. 

“Perhaps I did learn a thing or two,” he 
said, “ which were of some use : but the things 
old Dilwyn thought most about, we think 
nothing of at Birdsley.” 

“ Indeed ? ” 

“ There’s the Catechism for instance. It is 
so long since I said that that I’m sure I couldn’t 
repeat it now.” 

“Do you mean that the boys at Birdsley 
don’t say their Catechism ? ” inquired Ned, 


60 


LUKE SHARP. 


Noj never. And what’s more, they needn’t 
go to church even on a Sunday, if they don’t 
like it.” 

“ Tm sure Birdsley must he a very bad 
place then,” observed Smith, “ I’m very glad 
Tm not there.” 

“ Aha, lad ! the grapes are sour,” retorted 
Luke, with a look which he meant should be 
very knowing. “ Wait till you have the op- 
portunity. It is not every body’s father who 
can send his son to a school like that.” 

“I know my father is poor, but were he 
ever so rich I’m sure he would not send me to 
Birdsley.” 

How do you know that, Ned ? ” 

“Because he’s a good Christian, and loves 
the Church, and would not have his children 
brought up otherwise than as the Church com- 
mands.” 

“ But Avhat has this to do with the Cate- 
chism ? ” 

“ Why, the Church directs us all to use it. 
It is ‘an instruction to be learned of every 
person^ before he be brought to be confirmed 
by the Bishop.’” 


LUKE SHARP. 


61 


“ Ah, that may be well enough where there 
are only Church-children to be taught, but 
there are some of all kinds at our school. 
Baptists, and Wesleyans, and Romans, and 
plenty more ; and they wouldn’t put up with 
being taught the Church Catechism.” 

“ Then that would be another reason why 
my father would not send me to Birdsley. He 
would not send a son of his to be brought up 
with Dissenters.” 

“ That’s because he’s so full of prejudice.” 

‘‘ Not at all : but because he thinks schism 
a sin, and because he believes that doctrines 
which are not held by the Church are false 
doctrines.” 

‘‘ We don’t trouble our heads with doctrines, 
as they call them, at Birdsley : we leave those 
things to the . ministers, and those that care 
about them.” 

‘‘ Then I suppose you have given up your 
Bible-lessons as well as your Catechism, 
Luke?” 

‘‘ Why do you suppose so ?” 

“Because different sects explain the Bible 
different ways.” 


6 


62 


LUKE SHARP 


‘‘Oh, we have Bible-classes, but Mr. Hamp- 
den only explains the Scripture in a kind of 
way that would be inolfensive to parents of all 
opinions if they were present.” 

“Indeed? I wonder how he does that. I 
wonder how he explains the First Command- 
ment, for instance.” 

“ No great difficulty in that, Ned. He went 
through the four first commandments the last 
day we were at school.” 

“ Have you any Jews among you, laike?” 

“Jews? What an odd question? I’m sure 
1 don’t know ; there may be, for ‘ it’s all fish 
that comes to our net’; we never trouble our 
heads about such matters. But why do you 
ask the question?” 

“ Because I was wondering whether your 
Mr. Hampden taught the Jews that there are 
Three Persons in One Godhead, as all Chris- 
tians believe.” 

“ Oh, that isn’t the kind of thing that our 
master speaks about. He tells us that we are 
not to have more Gods than one, and then 
shows us what follies and superstitions the 
heathen fell into by being Polytheists.” 


LUKE SHARP. 


63 


^‘Dear me! what is that?” asked Smith, 

I somewhat scared at his companion’s' learning. 
“ What hard words you use 1 ” 

“ Yes, we’re taught the meaning of many 
hard words at Birdsley. I dare say you don’t 
know what’s meant by hydrostatics.” 

“ No, indeed I don’t ; what is it ? ” 

“ Steaming potatoes is hydrostatics,” answer- 
ed Luke with a grin. 

“Oh, that’s all, is it?” said Ned, “well 
then, I can do without that word. Now what 
are polytheists ? ” 

“ People who believe in more Gods than 
One.” 

“ And is that all that Mr. Hampden teaches 
you about the First Commandment ? ” 

“ Oh no, he tells us all about the gods and 
goddesses of the Greeks and Romans, Jupiter 
and Juno, and Bacchus and Venus, and Pluto 
and Proserpine, and such queer tales out of a 
book called Ovid’s Metamorphoses.” 

Ned stared, but uttered not a word. 

“ Ah, you’re thinking that you never heard 
a word of this from old Dilwyn. But this isn’t 
all ; when Mr. Hampden has told us about the 


64 


LUKE SHARP. 


false gods of Greece and Rome, in old times, 
he teaches us about the idolaters of modern 
times,— Buddha and Vishna in India, and 
Mumbo-jumbo among the Africans.” 

“ Have you any Africans at Birdsley ? ” 

“No, to be sure not, why do you ask ? ” 

“ I was only wondering how Mr. Hampden 
could instruct them in the First Command- 
ment, without interfering with their religious 
belief,” observed Ned Smith slyly, for, as our 
readers will have seen, he did not want for 
shrewdness. “ Well, but go on : what else 
did he teach you ? ” 

“ Oh, there was no more. He always 
finishes that part of the lesson with Mumbo- 
jumbo : it makes the bo^^s laugh.” 

“ But surely the superstition of these poor 
benighted heathen should be rather a matter 
of sorrow than of laughter to us.” 

“ Well, perhaps so, but Mr. Hampden makes 
such an odd contrast between their strange 
notions, and our superior light, and the advance 
of knowledge and science among ourselves, 
that one can’t help smiling.” 

“ Mr, Dilwyn, I think, would rather have 


LUKE SHARP. 


65 


j called on us to reflect, that if we, with such 
; advantages as we have, fail to profit by them, 

I the very heathen will rise up against us in the 
judgment-day and condemn us.” 

“ Old Dilwyn is a good man enough, I dare 
say,” observed his former pupil, “ though he 
never liked me : but the worst of his lessons 
was that they were so uncommonly prosy : 

I and then he was so grave, and stiff, and 
I preacher-like. He never amused us as Mr. 
I Hampden does.” 

I He speaks reverently where he speaks of 
‘ holy things ; but over our sums, or geography, 
or such like, he is always ready enough for a 
laugh.” 

Well, all I know is, I was none the better 
for those prosy questionings,” observed Luke 
in a flippant tone. 

“Whose fault was that Luke?” asked ^*fed 
gravely. 

“Which is as much as to say that it was 
replied the person addressed. “ But I 
am the better for Mr. Hampden’s lessons.” 

“ In what respect?” 

“ Why I know so much more.” 


66 


LUKE SHARP. 


Are those necessarily the best who Imow 
the most ? ” 

‘‘ Upon my word, Ned, you ought to be 
called Dilwyn the Second. You are learning 
to talk just like him. I wish you’d take to 
spectacles, and then you would be as much 
alike as two peas.” 

“ Well, there’s no knowing ; perhaps I shall 
take to spectacles by-and-by,” said Ned good- 
humouredly. But before we finish our talk, 
I do wish you would answer me this one ques- 
tion. When Mr. Hampden’s lesson is over, 
w'hat are any of you the better for it? You 
will have been taught things that are curious 
and interesting about heathen customs and 
belief; but what have you learned more of 
your duty towards God by his lesson ? If the 
commandments were given us in order to 
instruct us in our duty to God, surely that is 
rather the matter for us to consider, than how 
others have altogether failed to come to the 
knowledge of Him.” 

“ I do not understand you, Ned.” 

“ What I mean is this. Mr. Hampden uses 
the commandment we have been speaking of 


LUKE SHARP. 


67 


as a means by which to teach you things 
which you did not know already. Mr. Dilwyn 
uses it as a means to teach us how to become 
better than we were already. That is the dif- 
ference betweeiiL the two systems, is it not?” 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Sharp. 
“I don’t remember how Dilwyn used to ex- 
plain it.” 

“ Why, first he would teach us the Church’s 
doctrine with respect to God the Father, God 
the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, — Three 
Persons, and One God, and speak to us of the 
duty of believing the doctrine, without attempt- 
ing to explain it ; and he would warn us, by 
referring to the Athanasian Creed, of the dan- 
gerous errors into which persons have fallen, 
who have, instead of listening to the teaching 
of the Church, endeavoured to explain what 
cannot be explained, and so have either ‘ con- 
founded the Persons, or divided the substance.’ ” 

“ But how are you the better for such in- 
struction, Ned? You macY know more; but I 
don’t see that you are the better for a lesson in 
which you are taught these things.” 

“ Mr. Dilwyn thinks otherwise ; for he says 


68 


LUKE SHARP. 


that a corrupt faith has always a direct ten- 
dency to a corrupt practice.” 

“ How so?” 

“ Why suppose, for instance, any person 
were to deny that the Holy Ghost is God, such 
a person would not pray for His grace and 
assistance, and would, perhaps, come to think 
that he had strength and power enough in 
himself to do what is pleasing to God. Thus 
his corrupt faith would make his practice cor- 
rupt. But I had not finished what I was 
saying.” 

“ Well then, go on.” 

‘‘ When Mr. Dilwyn has set these things 
before us, he will go on to show us how we 
ought to keep, and what are likely to be our 
temptations to break this commandment. He 
will show us the great duty of reverence, and 
the great sin of setting up anything in our 
hearts which we love as well, or better than 
God. He will make us explain to him what 
it is to obey God, to serve Him, and to love 
Him. What it is to do this with all our heart, 
and mind, and soul, and strength. What it is 
to glorify Him. Then he will bid us ask our- 


LUKE SHARP. 69 

■ 

I selves in what manner we are in the habit of 
approaching God in prayer. He will inquire 
of us hoiv we ought to pray, how often we 
should pray? Have we said our prayers that 
day? Did we hurry them over? Did we 
think of God at our meals? Have we hon- 
oured and served God that day by diligence 
and obedience at school ? Have we honoured 
and served Him in our play, as well as in our 
work'^ Have we so believed in His power 
and in His presence everywhere, as to have a 
feeling within us that His' Eye is upon us at 
all times? These are the kind of questions 
that Mr, Dilwyn puts to us, and by this means 
he not only says things about our duties, 
which we should not have thought of other- 
wise, but he somehow says them in such a way 
that it is impossible to help thinking of them 
afterwards, and trying to follow his advice; 
for if there be one thing which he reminds us 
of more than another, it is that when once 
we have been taught our duty, we can never 
be again as if we had not known it ; that know- 
ledge without obedience is the most perilous of 
all possessions ; and he tells us almost every 


70 


LUKE SHARP. 


day that to have a mind full of light, and a 
heart full of darkness, is the most dreadful 
condition in which a person can be.” 

Edward Smith spoke with great earnestness 
because he knew but too well by past expe- 
rience what was the leading error in Sharp’s 
character, and he had not forgotten another 
piece of advice which he had frequently heard 
from Mr. Dilwyn’s lips, namely, that if Ave 
fail to avail ourselves of' any opportunity that 
may occur to us of warning our friends of the 
sins into which we see them fall, we not only 
incur guilt ourselves, but may perhaps de- 
prive them of a last chance of being recalled 
from the evil of their ways. 

“ I have often,” thought Smith within him- 
self, “heard Mr. Dilwyn tell Luke of his 
faults, and the danger of thinking that cleA^er- 
ness Avould make up for all his other defects, 
and now it would seem that he is at a place 
where cleverness is made more of than any 
otlier quality, so he has no chance but to be- 
come worse instead of better. I fear he won’t 
mind me if I do say any thing to him, but at 
any rate I shall not then have it on my mind 


LUKE SHARP. 


71 


that I did not do all in my power to be of use 
to him.” It was with this feeling that Ed- 
ward spoke in the manner which has been 
recorded above. 

And happy would it have been for Luke if 
he would have reflected on what was so kindly 
and delicately said. It might have been a 
turning point in his life, and have saved us 
the recital of a melancholy, though not un- 
profitable tale. 

Luke, however, was too full of self-confi- 
dence, had too high an opinion of his own 
judgment and knowledge of the world in com- 
parison with Edward Smith’s, had too great a 
contempt for the lessons of the village-school, 
and too entire a conviction of the superiority 
of a great town like Birdsley, and of the judi- 
ciousness of those who praised his own cle- 
verness, to have any doubts or misgivings 
about himself and his future prospects. And 
so, though he was struck and startled at the 
moment by some of the things which Smith 
had said, as being very unlike what every 
body else said to him, he felt more offended 
than pleased, broke off" the conversation, and 


72 


LUKE SHARP. 


determined in his own mind not to have any- 
more discussions with such a “prejudiced” 
person. 

Poor fellow, he might have spared himself 
the determination. The opportunity was 
never again afforded him. When God sees 
that we are resolute in not availing ourselves 
of the benefits which He -puts within our 
reach, He not only does not increase them, 
but sooner or later withdraws those which He 
has already bestowed. “ Take heed,” said 
our Blessed Lord to His disciples, “ how ye 
hear ; for whosoever hath, to him shall be 
given ; and whosoever hath not, from him 
shall be taken even that which he seemeth to 
have.” 

It had been understood by Luke that he was 
only to stay at Birdsley for a year, and that 
then his father would either take him home to 
live with him, or get him a clerk’s place in 
som^ office. This was the height of Luke’s 
ambition. He saw many of the clerks em- 
ployed in the manufactories at Birdsley 
dressed very smart on Sundays, with bright- 
coloured waistcoats, and stocks, and frock- 


LUKTi: SHARP. 


73 


coats, and glossy silk hats set rather on one 
side. And some of them he had seen occa^ 
sionally accontered like sportsmen, driving 
out of the town in gigs, followed, perhaps, by 
a bull-dog, and had even heard of them tak- 
ing guns with them, and of their having a 
match at the stupidest and cruelest of all 
those things which are misnamed sports ^ — 
pigeon-shooting. And others had been his 
admiration as they strutted and swaggered 
up and down the High Street, smoking 
cigars, talking and laughing very loud, and 
staring decent people out of countenance. 

AVhat a fine thing it must be, thought Luke, 
to be a clerk ! And how much money they must 
earn to enable them to dress so well ! AVhat 
lucky fellows they are ! What happ^r lives 
they must lead ! But Luke, like many an- 
other, was herein forming a judgment upon a 
knowledge of only half the truth. True, the 
clothes were very smart, but were they all 
paid for? And had there been no pinching 
of the inside in order to find funds for so 
smartening the outside? And though they 
were very fine on Sundays, was their situa- 
7 


74 


LUKE SHARP. 


tion .equally enviable on the other six days of 
the week? 

Ah, Luke had never thought about that; 
he was at school, and occupied himself from 
Monday to Saturday, so he knew nothing 
about the clerks. If he had, — if he had counted 
their long hours of confinement, and the dull 
drudgery in which they were employed, and 
the close, dark offices in which they were 
buried through many a bright summer’s day, 
and the strict rules which they were compelled 
to obey, and the scanty pay which, after all, 
they received, — Luke might have come to the 
conclusion that all is not gold which glitters. 

And more than this, if Luke could have 
changed places with some of those young men 
whose gay attire, and swaggering gait, and 
noisy laugh had most attracted his attention, 
he would have found that, in spite of all their 
pretences, they were not happy, and that they 
were looked down upon by their employers, 
and that not one in fifty of them would ever 
be anything better than what they were at 
present; and that indulgence in idleness, and 
the love of display, would lead many of them 


LUKE SHARP. 


75 


from one bad habit to another, till profligacy 
brought on loss of character, and loss of cha- 
racter brought on poverty, and poverty, disease, 
and disease an early grave. 

The objects of Luke’s envy were in sight, 
those whom he ought to have wished to fol- 
low were out of sight. The really worthy 
and respectable members of the profession 
although after a hard week’s toil they were as 
glad to avail themselves of the Sunday’s ces- 
sation from business as their more thoughtless 
brethren, did not turn the Christian’s Day of 
Rest into a day of sin. They made it a day 
of rest, not of idleness ; of calm sober happi- 
ness, not of worldly pleasure. They were 
glad of repose, and they knew that the mind 
never finds such healthy repose as when the 
world is shut out. They knew that for six 
days in the week they were obliged to think 
more of their worldly calling than of God, 
and so on the first day of each week they were 
glad to avail themselves of the opportunity 
then afforded them of begging His blessing on 
themselves and their labours, by joining in 
His public worship. 


76 


LUKE SHARP. 


Did such persons enjoy their Christian Sab- 
bath less because they endeavoured thereon to 
do their duty to God? Were they less happy 
because they had the approving testimony of 
a good conscience ? Could they find no plea- 
sure in that day without lying in bed till 
noon, and dressing above their rank, and imi- 
tating the vices of wealthier persons, and, as 
one may say, wearing their follies when they 
had done with them, as if they were so many 
cast off clothes? Ask them, and you will 
find that to such persons the chief happiness 
of the Lord’s Day is, that they can give up 
themselves to His service without interruption, 
and that the whole day, from dawn to night, 
can be hallowed and sanctified unto Him, that 
His Law may be in the heart. His praises on 
the lips. His promises and mercies continually 
in the mind. 

Ask such persons, and they will tell you 
that they are never so happy as when, at the 
close of the Lord’s day, they feel that, allow- 
ance being made for human infirmity, they 
have spent it in such a manner as is pleasing 
in God’s sight. 


LUKE SHARP. 


77 


But Luke had no heart for what he would 
have thought sucli a dull, wearisome, cheer- 
less way of spending Sunday. And to him, 
no doubt, a Sunday so spent would have been 
dull, wearisome, and cheerless. When we 
have wandered from the path of duty, God 
never allows us to find the return to it a plea- 
sant and easy thing at first, and the further we 
wander the greater is the difficulty of returning 
at all, the more numerous the obstacles, the 
more oppressive the discouragements. It is 
thus that God tests our sincerity, and tries our 
hearts whether we are in earnest with Him or 
no. Yet if He sees us resolutely set on retra- 
cing our steps. He gradually renders the road 
less rugged, and the further we advance the 
more easy it becomes to us, though it is never 
made as smooth to us again as it once was 
before we quitted it. 

Luke would have found no pleasure in a 
well-spent Sunday, because he had been too 
long used on that day to ‘‘do his own way, 
and find his own pleasure, and speak his own 
words,” instead of devoting it all to God, as at 
his Baptism he had promised. But if in spite 


78 


LUKE SHARP. 


of difficulties, and disinclination, and perhaps 
the ridicule of bad companions, he had steadily- 
determined to keep the Fourth Commandment 
to the best of his power, he would have found 
that his former repugnance to a right observ- 
ance of the Lord’s Day was gradually melting 
away, and, in the course of time, would have 
been led to confess, that till he spent it as a 
Christian should do, he had no conception of 
its rest, and peace, and blessedness. 

But, as has been said, Luke had no heart for 
that one thing on which his happiness in time 
and in eternity depended. Fully as he had 
been taught to understand the nature of the 
vows which had been made in his name in his 
baptism, he somehow contrived to persuade 
himself that nothing very difficult was involved 
in the promise to renounce the world, the flesh, 
and the devil ; and that in spite of the threat 
that, though hand join in hand, the wicked 
shall not go unpunished,” he should do very 
well at last if he was no worse than others. 
Perhaps if he had not had the bad example of 
his father before him he might have been dif- 
ferent. Let us hope so ; but at the same time 


LUKE SHARP. 


79 


let us remember, with respect to ourselves, that 
a bad example is no excuse for those who are 
not in ignorance of their duty. 

Luke's father was a man who, as his subse- 
quent history proved, must have been alto- 
gether without the fear of God. Luke had 
been too carefully taught while under Mr. Dil- 
wyn’s care not to have some religious feelings, 
but hp smothered them. The good seed fell 
among thorns and was choked. He did not go 
so far as to think religion a matter of no conse- 
quence ; but he put it away from him for the 
present. It would be time enough to turn to it 
when he should be sick, and old, and had 
nothing else to think about. Youth, he per- 
suaded himself, was made for other things, and 
so all his thought was how he should soon be 
a man, and be, in a great measure, his own 
master, and make his way in the world, and 
do things which as yet he had no opportunity 
of doing, and for their ability to do which he 
now so much envied others. 

With such feelings it was no slight vexation 
and disappointment to him to find that his 
father seemed by no means eager to make any 


80 


LUKE SHARP. 


arrangements about taking him from Birdsley 
school. To every scheme which Luke sug- 
gested there was still the same objection made 
It would be so expensive. His outfit would 
cost so much ; or Mr. So-and-so would require 
such a large premium. Did the boy think that 
money was as plenty as blackberries ? 

No, the boy did not think that ; but he 
believed, as many others did, that his father 
was the richest man in the parish, that all his 
speculations were successful, that he Avas mak- 
ing money almost as fast as he could count it. 
And Avas it not natural to think so, Avhen Jerry 
Sharp Avas always boasting of his luck, and 
inviting all his neighbours, — everybody Avho 
had saved a little money in trade or in service, — 
to bring him their hard-won earnings, and let 
him vest their little capital in the grand Welsh 
slate quarries at LlanllwnidAvrn (or some such 
unpronounceable name), whereby they AAmuld 
get tAvelve per cent., instead of three, Avhich 
Auas all the Savings Bank AAmuld give them ? 

And yet there were things, too, Avhich 
Luke’s observant, Avatchful eye detected, and 
Avhich puzzled him. Sometimes after boasting 


LUKE SHARP. 


81 


to a neighbour of, his success, Jerry Sharp 
would come home and throw himself into a 
chair, and sit moodily over the fire for hours 
without speaking. And latterly, he would 
drink more than he used to do, — gin and 
brandy, — and say he needed them to keep up 
his spirits. And when Luke ofiered to assist 
him with making up the books, he would not 
allow him to touch them, or look at them. 
And he grew more and more cross and ill- 
tempered every day. The only thing that 
seemed to give him any satisfaction was when 
people came in to pay their Christmas bills. 
Yet some of these customers, especially those 
who had put their money in his hands for 
investment, he seemed to shrink from, as if he 
was afraid of their speaking to him. He 
looked at them askance, and quailed if their 
full glance met his eyes. 

It was very odd. Luke did not know what 
to make of it. And odder still when Luke 
began to see that his father avoided talking to 
him as usual, that he seemed as much afraid 
of him as of the neighbours. 

“What are you staring at me for?” asked 


82 


LUKE SHARP. 


Jerry Sharp, at length, in a fierce offended 
tone, when he made his appearance one morn- 
ing, later than usual, and with such pale, hag- 
gard looks, that it was evident he could not 
have had a wink of sleep. 

I beg your pardon, father, I was afraid 
you were ill.” 

“Til!” exclaimed Jerry, with an oath, “what 
should make you think I am ill ? and if I am, 
what business is it of your’s ? ” 

“ None, father, only . . . .” 

“ Only what ? ” 

“ I was afraid if you were not ill in body, you 
had something to make you uneasy in mind.” 

“ Who said I was uneasy in mind ? who 
told you so ? answer me directly, or . . . .” and 
striking the table with his clenched fist, he 
left the alternative unexpressed, but not uncom- 
prehended. 

Luke had not, could not have, anything like 
filial respect; his father’s character prevented 
this ; but he had great fear of him, and he was 
quite terrified with the violence of his parent’s 
manner, and the livid hue, and horrible expres- 
sion of his countenance. 


LUKE SHARP. 


83 


He answered at once that he had never 
heard any one make a remark on the subject. 

“ Then mind your own business ; and hold 
your tongue about what has passed between us 
now, if you don’t wish me to he the death of 
you. And hark ye, you are to go back to 
Birdsley the first thing to-morrow morning. 
You’ve been idling at home long enough : it’s 
time you should be back at school.” 

And to Birdsley, Luke departed, for he saw 
that any further discussion with his father was 
out of the question. 

In a week’s time the mystery was solved. 
On Saturday Jerry Sharp left Yateshull, tell- 
ing his foreman that he should not be home 
before Monday night, as he had business at 
Birmingham. Monday passed, and Tuesday, 
and Wednesday, but no Jerry Sharp appeared. 

On Thursday came a rumour that the 
Sheriff’s officers were in possession of the 
Mill at Amworth. The report had hardly 
reached Yateshull before the police were at 
his premises there. And then the truth came 
out. The Welsh slate-quarry affair had been 
a gambling speculation of the most nefarious 


84 


LUltE SHARP. 


kind, and Jerry Sharp and some others having 
collected large sums of money through the 
credulity of those who trusted them, had put 
the cash into their own pockets and fled the 
country. Nor, on inquiry, did it turn out 
that his assets at Yateshull and elsewhere 
were sufficient to pay a penny in the pound. 
From the poor servant maid who had lent him 
her five sovereigns, to the foolish farmer who 
had lent him five hundred for investment in 
the slate-mines, not one of his creditors had 
the remotest chance of being repaid. And the 
worst of it was, that for the most part the suff- 
ferers were persons whom their losses brought 
to the greatest state of distress, — widows, 
fatherless children, aged labourers, servants 
too old for service, small shop keepers, and the 
like. These were his victims. Allured by 
the foolish hope of gaining greater interest 
for their money than could be got elsewhere, 
knowing nothing of the wickedness of the 
share-market, as it is called, they were led 
into a snare from which there was no escape, 
and only discovered their error when it was 
too late to retrieve it. 


LUKE SHARP. 


85 


Yet such things are happening every da^^, 
and in spite of warnings of every kind, people 
will go blindfold into ruin. Never, surely, 
has covetousness eaten so deeply into the heart 
of any nation as it has into our’s. It matters 
not how wild or how wicked a speculation he, 
if only it offers a large interest on the money 
invested, thousands will be found ready to 
embark in it, and to listen to the suggestions 
of any plausible rogue who, like Jerry Sharp, 
endeavours to persuade them that he has no 
object so much at heart as their welfare. 

It is needless to say that the officers were 
unsuccessful in their search. Sharp and his 
companions had laid their plans so cleverly 
that they were out of reach of pursuit before 
the alarm was given. Some said they fled to 
America, others to Australia, hut nothing 
certain was known, they were never seen 
again. 

And the last thing that poor Luke ever 
heard of his father was a letter with the Liver- 
pool post mark, which he received at Birdsley 
on the fatal Thursday morning. It ran in 
these words : 


8 


86 


LUKE SHARP. 


Son Luke, 

The times are too hard for men to live 
in them honestly; so I have been compelled 
to think of myself before others, and to take 
care of Number One. I advise you to do the 
same, as I can now help you no further ; and you 
had better not think about me, for I can’t say 
where you are likely to find me. You must 
shift for yourself; you are old enough. I 
had to make my start in life when I was 
younger than you, and without a shilling ; you 
are a scholar, and no doubt will find friends. 
I dare say your uncle Atkins will take you 
into his shop. Tell him I’m sorry I can’t pay 
his last bill. I wish you better luck than has 
fallen to me. So no more, 

From your unfortunate 

Father, 

J. S.” 


LUKE SHARP. 


PART III 


the mystery was solved, and all 
that had seemed strange to Luke 
in his father’s recent conduct be- 
came now intelligible enough. The unhappy 
boy had gone to school as usual that morning, 
but had hardly been there an hour before a 
policeman entered the room, spoke a few words 
to Mr. Hampden, and then called Luke to fol- 
low him. At the door he found his uncle 
Atkins, who having been himself subjected to 
a visit from the police, and to an examination 
respecting his brother-in-law’s flight, of which 
he was wholly ignorant, had, on the delivery 
of the letter at his house, recognized Jerry’s 


88 


LUKE SHARP. 


handwriting, and immediately handed it over 
to the constable. 

From whom is that letter?” asked the 
policeman as he put it into Luke’s hands. 
“ Do you know the writing ? ” 

“Oh yes,” answered Imke, staring at his 
uncle’s perturbed countenance, “ It is my 
father’s.” 

“ Look at the post-mark,” continued Irons, 
watching the expression of Luke’s features 
intently, and pointing to the word “Liver- 
pool,” “ What is your father doing at Liver- 
pool?” 

“ I don’t know, Sir,” said Luke. 

“Open the letter; — there, don’t break the 
seal, but take out your knife and cut the 
paper.” 

Luke did as he was bidden. 

“ Now read it.” 

Luke read, and paused, and looked first at 
his uncle, and then at the policeman, and then 
turned to the letter again ; then he grew deadly 
pale, and in a tone of the most evident and 
unfeigned alarm exclaimed, “ Oh, uncle, uncle, 
what has happened?’’ 


LUKE SHARP. 


89 


Constable Irons took the letter out of the 
boy’s hands, and read it. I thouglit as 
much,” said he, and held it out for Mr. Atkins^ 
perusal. 

“ What a scoundrel ! and my money too as 
well as other folks’ ! But this boy knows 
nothing.” 

The policeman nodded, and then, instead of 
returning the letter to the owner, put it into his 
pocket and walked olf. 

“ Oh, sir, do give me back my letter.” 

“ Sorry to say that it is out of my power at 
present young man : but you shall have it safe 
enough in a day or two.” 

‘^Oh, uncle, uncle, what is the matter?” 
exclaimed the poor boy with the tears running 
down his cheeks. 

“Ask Mr. Irons,” replied grocer Atkins, 
hesitating. 

“ What is it, sir ? ” said Luke, appealing to 
the constable. 

“ Go home with your uncle, and he will tell 
you,” replied the cautious official of the law. 

“Your father’s a bad man, Luke,” observed 
Atkins, “ he has ruined hundreds.” 


90 


LUKE SHARP. 


‘‘He has ‘ done'‘ every body, swindled them, 
victimized them, and now he has fled the 
country,” said Irons. 

“ He deserves to be hanged,” ejaculated the 
grocer. 

“ He will be hanged some day,” responded 
the policeman. 

“ He will be the cause of half-a-dozen bank- 
ruptcies in this place,” said the tradesman, 
beginning to count with his fingers. 

« “A hundred pounds reward ! ” muttered 
Irons, “ how fond people are of throwing good 
money after bad ! Well, I’d give a trifle to get 
on the right scent, and know what is become 
of him.” 

“ I’m sure I’d give a trifle,” exclaimed Atkins, 
suddenly turning with a look of reproach at 
poor sobbing Luke, “to know what’s to become 
of yon. Why you’re a beggar. The very 
clothes on your back are not your own.” 

“Oh, uncle Atkins,” said the boy once more, 
“ do tell me what has happened.” 

And then, as they walked homeward, the 
grocer made Luke acquainted with his father’s 
villainies so far as they had then been disco- 


LUKE SHARP. 


91 


vered; and when he got’ home he found his 
shop crowded with people, some bewailing 
their losses, and some almost frantic with rage 
at having been so imposed upon. And when 
they saw Luke they seemed as if they would 
have liked to tear him to pieces. 

“ The young thief!” cried one. 

“ The beggar’s brat ! ” exclaimed another. 

Who’s to pay for his smart jacket ? ” asked 
a third. 

“ Oh, that will come out of our pockets said 
a fourth. 

“ No, it will never be paid for at all,” sneered 
a fifth. 

“ Where’s your father, you young rascal ? ” 
shouted two or three together. 

liUke hurried past them, rushed up stairs 
into a room at the hack of the house, threw 
himself into a chair, and there sat stunned and 
stupified for hours. He was a beggar, he was 
without a home, what was to become of him ? 
These were the thoughts which occupied his 
mind, and brooding on them, he worked him- 
self up into such a fury, that perhaps among 
the crowd in the shop below there was not one 


92 


LUKE SHARP. 


who felt such rage* and hitter indignation 
against his father as he did. Shame and sor- 
row for a parent’s transgression were lost in 
the contemplation of his own personal incon- 
venience, and the mortifications to which he 
would in all likelihood be exposed, and of 
which he had already had such a painful 
sample. 

Thus, though a heavy trial had been sent 
him, his mind was in no state to receive it, and 
it fell upon him, as under such circumstances 
trials invariably do, with accumulated bitter- 
ness. Had he stored up any of the many les- 
sons on this subject which he had received 
while at Yateshull, his misfortune might have 
proved a blessing to him by suggesting to him 
the thought that it was in his power to secure 
the favour and protection of One Friend, — the 
Unchanging, and Unchangeable, Who will 
never leave or forsake those who love Him, 
and put their trust in Him ; of Whom the 
Psalmist, Holy David, saith, “ When my fathei 
and mother forsake me, then the Lord taketh 
me up;” yea. Who Himself hath said as con- 
cerning His people, “ Can a woman forget her 


LUKE SHARP. 


93 


sucking child, that she should not have com- 
passion on the son of her womb? yea, they 
may forget, but I will not forget thee.” 

But now, as heretofore, unhappy Luke 
turned his thoughts to any thing rather than 
religion: he said no prayer, uttered not so 
much as one ejaculation to God to have pity 
on him, and help him, but sate in moody 
sullenness bewailing his hard fate, and mur- 
muring against the cruelty of his unnatural 
parent. 

He was roused by hearing the clock in an 
adjoining factory strike three. Hours, then, 
had passed away, the family meal was over, 
and nobody had troubled their heads to ask 
after him, or send for him. This was a 
sample of what he was to expect. “Now I 
am a beggar,” thought he, “ nobody cares 
what becomes of me; while my father was 
supposed to be rich, nobody could do enough 
for me ! ” Alas ! the reflection never occurred 
to him that if such were the case, a capricious 
world, and uncertain riches, were evil things 
to trust to ! Luke’s thoughts ran in another 
channel pride was the form which the 


94 


LUKE SHARP. 


tempter now assumed, and Luke’s impulse 
was to go down stairs, upbraid his uncle for 
his unfeeling conduct towards him, and then 
leave the house, and wander about, and starve, 
and die, rather than be under obligations to 
anybody. 

Accordingly he went down stairs : his uncle 
was not in the parlour, nor in the shop, and 
Barney Ford, the shopman, said he didn’t 
know where he was, unless he was up at the 
police station. And Barney said this in a 
tone which was intended to show that he 
thought he was rather demeaning himself by 
speaking to Luke at all. 

Luke drew his cap over his face, and walked 
out into the street. He was very hungry, and 
would have been thankful for even a dry 
crust, but he had no money, and he was too 
proud to ask for a piece of bread in his uncle’s 
house. 

He walked on, and being pretty well known 
in the town, he soon found himself exposed 
to the same sort of salutations as those which 
he had experienced earlier in the day. He 
became quite cowed and frightened, and was 


LUKE SHARP. 


95 


half inclined to run back to the house he had 
quitted: but his pride checked him. Then 
he reflected that if he could but once get out 
of the town he should not be liable to moles- 
tation. 

But whither should he go ? Once he 
thought of turning his steps towards Yates- 
hull, but his fears immediately suggested to 
him that to go there would be only to expose 
himself to the same kind of treatment as that 
from which he was endeavouring to escape. 
And besides, who was there who was likely 
to be disposed to assist him? The neigh- 
bours, with whom he was best acquainted, 
were precisely those persons whom his father’s 
dishonesty had most deeply injured. To be 
sure there were Mr. Warlingham, and Mr. 
Dilwyn, and two or three of his old school- 
fellows, whom he felt would not turn their 
backs on him, but his pride checked him once 
more. He could not make up his mind to go 
to them. The two former he could not help 
respecting, but he disliked them, because, as 
he had succeeded in persuading himself, he 
was sure they were prejudiced against him ; 


96 


LUKE SHARP. 


and as to the latter, he was secretly conscious 
of having at one time given himself so many 
airs as the richest, and cleverest boy in the 
school, that he could not bear the thought of 
atfording them a triumph by presenting him- 
self before them in poverty and disgrace. He 
little knew the persons whom he thus shrunk 
from meeting ; or rather, perhaps, he judged 
of them by himself, and of what he might 
hav^e done in his days of success. Not one of 
them but would have comforted and assisted 
him to tlie best of their power; and had he 
so gone, and been guided by the advice he 
would then have received, his whole character 
might have been changed, and his future 
career have been one of honourable exertion, 
and Christian obedience. 

But no, he would not go to Yateshull. The 
temptation of pride was strong ; and he made 
no effort to resist it, and so once more he lost 
an opportunity which, when lost, could never 
be recalled ; and, as often happens, his sin and 
liis punishment went hand in hand ; the pride 
which he was indulging brought him forth- 
with not imaginary evil, but real humiha- 


LUKE SHARP. 


97 


tions, — humiliations of the very kind which (if 
he had received them in a right spirit) would 
have been most wholesome for him, but which 
he was most anxious to escape. 

It was while he was hurrying on to the 
nearest road out of the town, that he found 
himself approaching the school which he en- 
tered the same morning with such different 
feelings to those which now oppressed him. 
The sight instantly recalled the words of his 
father’s letter, — “ You are a scholar, and no 
doubt will find friends.” 

A gleam of hope seemed to come over him : 
he felt he was “ a scholar,” and a cleA^er one 
too ; he had done credit to the Birdsley school, 
and to ‘‘ the new system,” and to Mr. Hamp- 
den. He would go to Mr. Hampden ; he felt 
confident in Mr. Hampden’s ability and wil- 
lingness to help him. 

And so to Mr. Hampden he went; but he 
might as well have stayed away. Not that 
Mr. Hampden repulsed him, or said one un- 
kind word to him, but there was something in 
him which made Luke feel directly that he 
was not a person to go to in time of need. 

9 


98 


LUKE SHARP. 


He expressed great sorrow for him and so 
forth, but there he stopped short. There was 
nothing generous about him, he was all out- 
side, and there was no getting beneath the 
surface, — to his heart. Smooth, and snug, 
and comfortable, and well-to-do in the world, 
it was as if he had resolved never to allow 
himself to he interested in other people’s af- 
fairs, or plagued with their concerns, or to 
have his ease broken in upon, or his feelings 
distressed by the troubles of his neighbours. 
He was caution itself, seemed always afraid to 
commit himself, and as if the chief object of 
his life was so to qualify all he said as that 
he should never be chargeable with having 
expressed an opinion, or given a promise. In 
short he was just the man for his office, — that 
office being to teach morality without reli- 
gion, and religion without a creed,” or in other 
words, to teach men to be Christians, by sup- 
pressing the truths of Christianity. 

And so when Luke, with broken voice, and 
streaming eyes, besought him ' to befriend 
him, and use his influence to get him some 
situafion, Mr. Hampden only wished that his 


LUKE SHARP. 


99 


power was equal to his good-will, said that it 
was a matter of the greatest pain to him that, 
as he had no influence, he could he of no use 
to Luke, regretted that, under present circum- 
stances, he could not feel himself justified in 
holding out hopes that he would be able to 
serve him in any way, assured him of the 
satisfaction he should have in hearing he was 
well provided for, opened the house door for 
him, and wished him a good afternoon, having 
never so much as asked him to sit down, or 
offered him a mouthful of food, though he 
must have seen well enough the poor boy’s 
exhausted condition. “ A sharp lad that,” 
muttered the cautious teacher to himself, as he 
returned to his tea, “ it’s a pity that misfortune 
haf come upon him. How he is to get an 
honest livelihood, I don’t see; and if he does 
turn rogue, he will be a great one, like his 
father; I can’t think why it is that useful 
knowledge is so often turned to bad account. 
They tell me that Jerry Sharp had a wonder- 
ful head for figures, — and a pretty purpose he 
has turned his skill to ! ” 

Another ring at the door-bell. Dear me ! ” 


100 


LUKE SHARP. 


exclaimed the master in a tone of extreme 
surprise immingled with pleasure, yon here 
again? What has brought you back? You 
should have said anything you had to say at 
once, and not have brought me here a second 
time. I am particularly busy, and, and . . . .” 
but here Mr. Hampden stopped short ; it struck 
him that it would be imprudent to let out that the 
tea was made, and the muffin was growing cold. 

“Well, what is it?” he asked sharply, after 
a pause. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, I am very sorry 
to have troubled you, sir,” said Luke more 
meekly than was his wont, “ but I wished to 
know whether, if I could hear of a clerk’s 
place anywhere, I might give your name as a 
reference ? ” 

“ My name, young man ? goodness, gracious 
me ! whatever are you thinking of ? By no 
manner of means,” exclaimed the man of 
caution, “ I wonder how you could ask such a 
thing, especially after all that has happened. 
I make it a rule never to stand surety for 
anybody, in any way. And least of all could 
I do it for you, whose father . . . 


LUKE SHARP. 


101 


“Oh, sir, I did not mean that. T only- 
wished to refer to you for my character.” 

“ Dear, dear ! what means have I of know- 
ing your character? I never trouble my head 
about you out of school-hours.” 

Even Luke could not fail to be struck with 
the contrast which this speech suggested to his 
mind between Mr. Hampden, and “old Dil- 
wyn,” whose whole soul was wrapped up in 
his scholars, and whose thoughts were as 
much occupied with them, and his eye almost 
as much over them when they were at their 
play, as when they were at their work. 

“ Perhaps you could speak as to my abi- 
lity in the way of penmanship and casting 
accounts, and say that I am a fair scholar.” 

“ Why yes,” replied the master of Birdsley 
school, “ I do not immediately see any objec- 
tion to my doing that, though perhaps it is 
better in these cases not to speak positively. 
Let me know if you hear of anything likely 
to suit, and I will consider of it. Of course 1 
don’t mean to deny your ability, but it does 
not do for a person in my situation to commit 
himself. But, my young friend, I must give 


102 


LUKE SHARP. 


one caution, don’t allow yourself to build too 
much upon your scholarship. Every body is 
a good writer and accountant now-a-days. 
These new schools of our’s have done so much 
for the people, that there is quite a glut of 
knowledge in the market. Learning is a drug ; 
reading, writing, and arithmetic are like the 
air we breathe, we must all have it or die. 
Don’t count too much on your scholarship, 
young man. Good evening.” 

And the philosopher returned to his muffin, 
and the scholar to The high road. Here was 
the end of his father’s confident expectation 
that as he was a scholar, he would be sure to 
find friends. If one who knew him had dis- 
couraged him so deeply, what could he expect 
from strangers ? 

What was to be his next step? Where 
was he to go ? To whom was he to apply ? 
His natural protector had deserted him ; his 
uncle’s roof he had quitted ; and, so far as he 
knew, he had not a kinsman in the world. 
Evening was drawing on. Hungry, and 
thirsty, and weary, where Avas he to go for 
relief ? He knew' not. “ And it matters not,” 


LUKE SHARP. 


103 


said he bitterly, “ so that I can get out of this 
place. I suppose I shall starve, and the sooner 
1 starve, the sooner it will be over.” 

He knew not what he was talking about. 
He had never in his life known what it was to 
be without a sufficiency of food, and the crav- 
ings of hunger which he now felt were no 
more than many of the poor children at Birds- 
ley were in the habit of experiencing every day 
of their lives. And then to speak as if it would 
be a blessing to him if he were dead ! How 
little could he have thought of the real nature 
of that change which would bring him at once 
before God, with so many unrepented sins, and 
so many unchastened tempers to answer for ! 

It was a cold wintry afternoon ; heavy lead- 
coloured clouds covered the face of the sky, 
and beneath them white, flaky masses, of 
vapour, — the sure forerunner of a deep snow. 
The wind was eddying about from one point 
to the other in sudden gusts, — the herald of the 
storm which would set in at sunset: but still 
Luke continued to walk onward. 

The road lay across a flat, dreary moor. 
Lonesome and uninviting the prospect must 


104 


LUKE SHARP. 


have been even in former times, when the eye 
could rest on nothing but a wide expanse of 
heath, and a distance of low round-headed 
hills, skirting the horizon like a wall. But 
when the gorse and ling were in flower, and 
the lark was carolling in the sky above, and a 
pure, fresh, healthy air was blowing, even that 
solitary heath had its charms for those who 
accustom themselves to track out in all God’s 
works the evidences of His wisdom, and His 
love. 

But beneath the surface of that sterile soil 
the earth was rich in mineral treasures. And 
shaft after shaft had been sunk, till the whole 
moor was honey-combed with coal and iron 
mines. Then, indeed, the land became a 
dreary waste. Whimsies with their tall chim- 
nies, and dome-like boilers, and ever-moving 
cranks and fly-wheels ; furnaces vomiting forth 
flames and clouds of murky smoke ; heaps of 
coal in process of coking, piles of ironstone cal- 
cining ; forges and pit-banks ; long tracks of 
blackened pathway intersecting each other in 
all directions ; canals crossing each other at 
various levels ; innumerable shapeless mounds 


LUKE SHARP. 


105 


of the refuse of the mines, or of dross from the 
blast furnaces ; shallow stagnant ponds ; and 
an atmosphere loaded with soot and smoke, — 
these were the sights which now met the eye 
of the traveller. Scarce a blade of grass was 
to be seen even in the height of summer. No 
insect gladdened the air, no bird poured forth 
its song; it was as if a universal blight and 
poison had pervaded the atmosphere, as if it 
had been decreed that those scenes, in which 
the sufferings of many are ministering to the 
covetousness of the few, should ever bear upon 
them some outward and visible sign of being 
marked by the curse of God. 

And stretching away for miles and miles as 
far as that miserable mining district extended, 
the high road presented the same objects on the 
right hand and on the left ; the only variation 
being that now and then the traveller entered 
a huge, overgrown, towndike village, with hun- 
dreds of low dilapidated dwellings, not built in 
streets, but looking as though they had been 
thrown down at random, all of the same size 
and shape, yet most of them leaning in one 
direction or another, — with cracks and settle- 


106 


LUKE SHARP. 


ments in the . walls, and with buttresses sup- 
porting them where most out of the perpen- 
dicular, — the inclination being the result of 
what are thereabouts called “ swags,” — that is, 
the sinking of the ground into old workings, — 
all beneath the surface being hollow and per- 
forated through and through. These are the 
dwellings of the miners, nail-makers, and other 
poor mechanics. 

In other spots, where the country is more 
open, clusters of hovels, hatches, and den-like 
workshops and smithies, with two or three 
beer-houses, near a whimsey, on one side or 
other of the road, were the tokens of that vast, 
swarming population which were at work 
under ground. 

Along this road Luke proceeded till he had 
nearly reached Cinder Hill, the nearest hamlet 
to Birdsley, and about a couple of miles from 
it, when just as he approached the site of two 
or three ruined hovels at the outskirts, his 
attention was roused by hearing some one 
shouting to him. He looked up and saw two 
well-dressed men coming from the opposite 
direction, one of whom was vainly attempting 


LUKE SHARP. 


107 


to catch his hat which had been blown oif his 
head by one of the sudden gusts of wind. The 
hat was borne towards Luke, but in such a 
manner tliat unless he was able to interpose, it 
would be speedily deposited in one of the ponds 
by the road side. Luke immediately dashed 
forward, and caught the hat just as it was 
bounding into the water. 

He ran with it to the fat, breathless, old gen- 
tleman who had lost it, and whom he imme- 
diately recognized as Mr. Grinderstone, — the 
head partner in the foundry of Grinderstone 
and Slag, who was one of the greatest men at 
Birdsley, and who in that capacity had pre- 
sided at the Christmas Examination, and 
bestowed the prizes at the Birdsley school. 
Luke’s heart bounded within him ; he knew 
he had received the head prize, and a very 
high encomium had been passed on his talents 
by this very Mr. Grinderstone, who had called 
him “ a rising youth.” Luke fell as if he was 
at any rate now sure of a friend. 

“ Thank ye, my boy, thank ye,” gasped the 
old gentleman, as soon as he was able to speak, 

it’s a new hat, and I . . . . he^^, why, hey ?” 


108 


LtJitE SHARP. 


And here Mr. Grinder stone stopped short, for 
in the act of putting his hand into his pocket 
for a few odd halfpence, it suddenly occurred 
to him that Luke’s face was familiar to him, 
and at the same time he judged from his dress, 
that if he gave anything at all (and Mr. Grind- 
erstone was not held to be over-fond of giving), 
it must be something more than the two- 
pence-halfpenny in the bit of blue paper which 
he had jast received at the shop. So Mr. 
Grinderstone paused to take breath and con- 
sider. 

“Hey?” he continued, as Luke took oif his 
cap to him, “why you’re the boy, ar’nt you, up 
at the what-d’ye-call-it yonder ? ” 

“ The Birdsley school, sir.” 

“ Yes, yes, that I gave what-d’ye-call-him’s 
thingumbob’s to ? ” 

“ Trotter’s Physics,” answered Imke, assist- 
ing the memory of his still breathless patron ; ' 
“ Yes, sir.” 

“Very promising boy. Slag,” observed Mr. 
Grinderstone, addressing his companion. 

“What’s his name?” asked Mr. Slag, for 
want of something better to say. 


LUKE SHARP. 


109 


‘‘ Sharp, sir, Luke Sharp,” answered the per- 
son most interested in the inquiry. 

“No relation, I hope, to Sharp of Amworth 
mill.” 

“ I am his son, sir,” replied the boy blushing 
deeply. 

“Sad affair, indeed, that slate-quarry busi- 
ness,” observed Mr. Grinderstone, beginning 
once more to feel for the halfpence. “But I 
think you lived with somebody at Birdsley, — 
not with your father.” 

“With my mother’s brother, Mr. Atkins the 
grocer.” 

“ Well, and I suppose he’ll he a parent to 
you now, won’t he ? ” 

There was something in this blunt, matter- 
of-fact way of cross-questioning which Luke 
did not know how to meet. He stammered, 
and hesitated, and at last said that he had 
left his uncle, and was looking out for a situa- 
tion. 

“Left your uncle, have you?” asked Mr. 
Slag, “ I hope you don’t mean that he turned 
you out of doors in consequence of your father’s 
offence.” 


10 


IJO 


LUKE SHARP. 


‘‘ Oh no, sir ! ” answered Luke hastily. 

‘‘ Then why have you left him ? ” asked 
Grinderstone and Slag in one breath. 

They proposed a question which, sti:ange to 
say, up to this moment, Luke had never pro- 
pounded to himself. He was quite confused. 
It was partly, he believed, because he had not 
been called down to dinner, and partly because 
he had fancied himself too proud to bear being 
under obligations to anybody. But it was im- 
possible to allege these reasons to Grinderstone 
and Co. — at least if he hoped for any further 
countenance from them. He was unwilling, 
he said eventually, to be a burden to his uncle, 
so he was going to seek his fortune : he was a 
good scholar, and thought he might get a 
clerk’s place somewhere. 

Oh, indeed?” observed Grinderstone drily. 
Slag shook his head. 

‘‘And where are you going to-night?” in- 
quired Grinderstone. 

Luke confessed he did not know. 

“ Have you got no clothes, but those on 
your back ? ” asked Slag, looking very grim, — 
for he was a gaunt man, with lantern-jaws. 


LUKE SHARP. 


Ill 


None with me, sir,” replied Luke, looking 
down. 

“A nice cleanly person for a clerk!” ob- 
served the elder partner, with something of a 
sneer. 

“ Have you got any money with you, boy ? ” 
asked the junior partner, in a very stern tone. 

“ No, sir,” replied Luke, beginning to cry. 

Mr. Grinderstone immediately resolved in 
his own mind that it would not be necessary to 
give him the whole of the two-pence-halfpenny. 

“Are you going to beg then, or to steal?” 
inquired Slag. 

“ Neither, sir,” blubbered forth Luke. 

“ How else are you to get a supper ? ” 

“ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ Or a bed ? ” 

“ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ And what will you do without either?” 

“ I don’t know, sir.” 

“ Don’t know, you good-for-nothing run- 
away 1 what do you mean by saying you don’t 
know? what do you mean by having the 
audacity to tell me that you don’t know ? Are 
you aware that I am a magistrate,” continued 


112 


LUKE SHARP. 


Mr. Grinderstone, with increasing animation, 
and that the law gives me a hold over rogues 
and vagabonds like you ? ” 

Luke was about to mutter forth some apology, 
but Mr. Slag laid hold of him by the shoulder, 
and pointing to the ruined hovels already 
mentioned, fixed his eyes on Luke’s face, 
and in a quiet tone, of deep meaning, said, 
‘‘ Did you ever hear of Tony Dwale and Jem 
the Run-a'^ay?” 

“No, sir,” answered Luke. 

“ Then listen to me. On that mound of 
rubbish yonder stood a house which, thirty 
years ago, was occupied by Tony Dwale, the 
nail-maker. They who knew him said he was 
one of the cruelest old wretches that ever 
switched a boy’s back with a red-hot nail-rod, 
or sent ‘ a flash of lightning ’ into a lad’s face. 
I suppose you know what a flash of lightning is.” 

Luke replied that he did, and shuddered at 
the thought.* 

* This is no exaggeration. It was shown by evidence given 
in Mr. Horne’s Report on the employment of children in the 
iron trade of South Staffordshire, that such barbarities are some- 
times exercised. — “ When a bar of iron is drawn white-hot from 
the forge it emits fiery particles, which the man commonly flings 


LUKE SHARP. 


113 


“ Aye, aye,” observed Mr. Grinderstone, 
I have heard say, that he was the first mas- 
ter that ever cured his ’prentices of making 
scraps . . . 

“ That’s bad nails,” interposed Slag. 

By making them lay their heads down on 
the iron counter, and hammering a-nail through 
one ear. I warrant them the lads made good 
nails ever after.” 

“Yes, but when it came to be known, it 
got old Dwale such a name that the justices 
cancelled all the ’prentices’ indentures, and 
wouldn’t bind any more lads to him. How- 
ever, Tony was soon seen with another boy in 
his workshop ; he called him ‘ Jem the Run- 
away,’ and told his neighbours that the lad 
had run away from his friends, and that he 
found him starving, and so he had taken him 
home, and was going to be a father to him. 


in a shower on the ground by a swing of his arm before placing 
the bar upon the anvil. This shower (‘ the flash of lightning ’) 
is sometimes directed at the boy. — It may come over his head 
and face, his naked arms, or on his breast” — (‘ don’t stand par- 
ticular upon this,’ says one of the witnesses, ‘jus't as it hap- 
pens’). “ If his shirt be open in front, which is usually the 
case, the red-hot particles are lodged therein, and he has to 
shake them out as fast as he can.” 


114 


LUKE SHARP. 


A queer kind of a father most folks thought 
that Dwale was like to he ; and they pitied 
the poor child. And if all tales be true, they 
had cause to pity him, for there was no 
cruelty of starving and beating that Tony did 
not exercise upon him, till poor Jem got paler 
and paler, and thinner and thinner, and weaker 
and weaker, and more and more ragged; hut 
still he was kept to his toil early and late, 
and early and late his cries and screams were 
heard when Tony was flogging him with the 
nail- wire. And then,” continued Mr. Slag, 
“ he was covered with sores ; and then he grew 
quite crippled, so that he could be of no use 
to Tony; and then he disappeared. Tony 
said he had run away. And the neighbours 
wondered how a tottering cripple, whose mas- 
ter’s eye was never off him, could run away. 
But the boy had no friends to inquire after 
him, and when the neighbours asked why 
Dwale himself made no search for him, he re- 
plied that the boy wasn’t worth his salt, that 
he could not afford to keep him doing nothing, 
and, as it were, eating his own head off, and 
so he was glad to be quit of him.” 


LUKE SHARP. 


115 


“ The neighbours had their own thoughts, 
notwithstanding,” observed Mr. Grinderstone. 

“ Of course,” said Slag, But they did not 
choose to meddle or make. Tony Dwale 
was an ill man to quarrel with. So the talk 
soon ceased, and Jem the Run-away, was nearly 
forgotten at the end of ten or fifteen years, 
wdien Dwale died. He had a miserable end. 
He was seized with a fit that took away the 
use of his limbs, and nobody being near him 
when he fell, he was slowly roasted to death 
on Iris own forge. Those who saw the corpse 
thought from its appearance, and the small 
quantity of fuel,- that he must have been 
burning and dying, dying and burning for 
hours.” 

“ Ah,” interposed Grindersone, “ he had 
been fighting fire all his life, and it beat him 
at last.” 

“Are you listening, boy, to what I say??’ 
inquired Slag, turning to Luke. “ Yes, I see 
you are. Well, what with the damage it re- 
ceived from the fire, and what with the bad 
name it had gotten from Tony’s doings, nobody 
cared to hire his house, so it went to ruin, and 


116 


LUKE SHARP. 


a few years back was pulled down, at least in 
part, for you see that some of the wall is 
standing yet. Now look at that mound by the 
window-place. Underneath that was the back 
cellar, and there, while the men were working, 
they found the skeleton of a boy. ‘ That’s 
old Tony’s ’prentice as was missing ! ’ ‘ That’s 
poor Jem the Run-away,’ cried some of the 
old folks who happened to be standing by ; 
and I suppose it was; at least there was a 
mark on it that stamped it for a piece of old 
Tony’s handiwork, for, just by the right Oar, 
a nail had been driven into the scull, and there 
it was still sticking.” 

Oh sir,” exclaimed Luke in horror, “ and 
what did those who made the discovery do 7 ” 
‘‘Do?” replied Mr. Slag, “the bones were 
shovelled into a wheel-barrow, carried away, 
and flung into the lane there, to mend the 
road, or to be kicked about, just as it might 
happen.* They’re a rough set that live here- 
abouts; but not so bad now-a-days as old 
Tony Dwale, I dare say ; and even if they are, 

* See a similar story in the Report already referred to. Evi- 
dence No. 263. 


LUKE SHARP. 


117 


you seem a strong, healthy chap, with more 
spirit belike than Jem the Run-away lad. I’m 
told trade is pretty good, and they’re in want 
of hands. You had better go and try your 
luck with them. Good night, my boy.” 

And Mr. Slag laid hold of Mr. Grinder- 
stone’s arm, and made as though he were 
about to hurry homewards, without taking 
any more thought about Luke. 

Hungry, thirsty, weary, miserable, terrified, 
Luke saw the two gentlemen turn their backs 
on him with a feeling of despair with which a 
drowning man sees the plank, which he is 
struggling to gain hold of, caught by a current 
and swung out of his reach. 

“ Oh, gentlemen,” he exclaimed, following 
them, and keeping close at their side, “ pray 
have pity on me.” 

Dear me,” said Mr. Slag, “ I’m afraid 
you are a very troublesome sort of person. 
I’ve given you some advice ; what more would 
you have ? ” 

‘‘Don’t stand m my way,” ejaculated Mr. 
Grinderstone, falling at once into what he saw 
must be his partner’s object ; for though 


118 


LUKE SHARP. 


tainted by the greedy, money-getting spirit 
of the times, he was, in many respects, a kind- 
hearted man. ‘‘ Don’t follow us in that man- 
ner; don’t push up so closely at my side; 
take care what you are about. It is my duty 
to correct rogues and vagabonds. I shall send 
a constable after you.” 

“ Oh, gentlemen, be a friend to me,” cried 
Luke with all the importunity of despair. 

“ Dear me ! ” replied Mr. Slag, what claim 
have you upon us ? We know nothing about 
you.” 

“ Mr. Grinderstone does, indeed he does ; 
only ask him.” 

“ I know I had to present you with a book 
at the school yonder; but I did the same to 
two or three score besides. Yon don’t mean 
to build upon that, do you? You don’t ex- 
pect me to stand sponsor for all the ragga- 
muffins that our silly committee, with their pre- 
cious folly, give sixpenny books to, do you ? ” 

‘^No, sir, but you praised me more than 
the others,” said Luke with failing heart, but 
determined, if possible, not to lose his last 
chance. 


LUKE SHARP. 


119 


“ I told you you were a promising boy, 
but what of that? Half the youths that 
come to be transported or hanged were pro- 
mising lads at some time or other. They 
showed talent and sharpness which gave a 
promise that they could do something to be 
talked of by-aiid-by; and so they are talked 
about, but not for good, but evil. You’re a 
clever school-boy, but what of that? It will 
be only so much the worse for you, and in the 
end make a greater rogue of you, unless you 
have conduct as well as cleverness, and cha- 
racter as well as talent. And it is clear, by 
your own showing, and by your being here at 
this moment, that you have neither conduct 
nor character. No, I can do nothing for you,” 
said Mr. Grinderstone. 

Nor I,” said Mr. Slag. 

Luke fell back, buried his face in his hands, 
and turned a\^ay in despair. 

The gentlemen proceeded a few yards ; not 
many certainly, but they went far enough to 
make Luke feel that he was alone in the 
world, quite helpless and friendless. 

Then Mr. Grinderstone looked round and 


120 


LUKE SHARP. 


shouted after him, “Hillo, where are you 
'skulking away to 7 

“ I don’t know, sir,” replied Luke rejoining 
them once more. 

‘‘Why don’t you go back to your uncle? 
and beg his pardon, and tell him what an ass 
you have been, and say how much you’re 
ashamed of yourself, and express your readi- 
ness to do anything he bids you, by which 
you may gain an honest livelihood ? ” 

“ f don’t like .... I mean I’m afraid to do 
that,” replied Luke, in whose heart pride was 
still battling to retain its ground. 

“ Now, I’ll tell you what,” said Mr. Grinder- 
stone, I am not going to catch my death of 
cold by standing in a snow-storm to argue you 
out of your folly ; hut 1 shan’t take any more 
nonsense. So, if you please, you’ll just keep 
five yards in advance of me and Mr. Slag, and 
if I see you attempting to make your escape. 
I’ll give you such a thrashing as no man but 
Tony Dwale ever gave a runaway before.” 

There was something so determined in Mr. 
Grinderstone’s manner, that Luke, under any 
circumstances, would have been afraid not to 


LUKE SHARP. 


121 


obey ; but situated as he was, he felt it a com- 
fort not to be left to himself. A night passed 
in the Birdsley cage would be far preferable to 
one on Birdsley Moor in a snow-storm. So the 
three passed along at a rapid pace, till they 
entered the town, and then Luke was bidden 
to lead the way to his uncle’s. 

Mr. Atkins had just returned home. He had 
been out on business ever since the morning, 
and of course knew nothing of Luke’s wander- 
ings. If great >vas his surprise at finding that 
his nephew was missing, greater still was 
his amazement at having him brought back 
in the custody of Messrs. Grinderstone and 
Slag. 

The latter gentlemen soon told their tale, 
while Luke stood by with downcast counte- 
nance, writhing under the infliction of the well 
deserved reproof which he received, and stmig 
with vexation at a suppressed titter which he 
heard behind him, and which he knew ema- 
nated from Barney Ford, the shopman. 

Mr. Atkins, a well-intentioned, industrious, 
plain-spoken man, though somewhat dull, and 
occasionally rather hasty where money matters 
11 


122 


LUKE SHARP. 


Avere concerned, could only express his won- 
der at Luke’s folly, and his obligation to his 
wealthy fellow-townsmen, for bringing him 
back. He had always intended to do what he 
could for his nephew, he said, at any rate for 
the present. He knew it was no easy matter 
now-a-days to get lads into situations ; the mar- 
ket was overstocked ; but he was doing pretty 
well himself in the grocery line, and should 
have no objection to take Luke into the shop. 
He would board and lodge him, and give him 
five pounds a year to provide clothes. 

Mr. Grinderstone said nothing could be bet- 
ter: it was a hundred times better than any 
thing Luke deserved ; and then he added, 
“We shall be very ready to bind him to you 
as apprentice, whenever you think proper to 
bring him before the bench. As for you, 
young man,” he continued, “ I shall be willing 
to forget your egregious folly, if I hear of you 
taking pains to retrieve the false step you have 
taken this day, and endeavouring, by diligence 
and steadiness, to make up for your ingrati- 
tude. I shall keep my eye upon you, and if I 
am satisfied that ‘you are going on well, shall 


LUKE SHARP. 


123 


not be indisposed to befriend you : but remem- 
ber, I never make promises.” 

“ And if you find you ever think yourself 
too clever to be a shop boy, and that you are 
fitter to be a clerk in a counting-house than to 
weigh out pepper and mustard, and so are dis- 
posed to take to your heels again, I advise 
you,” said Mr. Slag, “ not to forget the history 
of Tony Dwale and run-away Jem.” 

And then Luke was left to the companion- 
ship of his uncle, who did not reproach him, 
and of his conscience, which did. 

As Mr. Slag had anticipated, Luke was by 
no means enamoured of the prospect before 
him. He had got so high an opinion of his 
own cleverness, that it had already incapaci- 
tated him from turning it to account. If he 
could have entered contentedly into his uncle’s 
establishment, thankful for the opportunity 
afforded him of commencing life under circuhi- 
stances far more favourable than, after his 
father’s disgrace, he had any reason to expect, 
if he would have been satisfied to do what his 
betters had done before him, that is, to work 
his way upwards by degrees ; if he would 


124 


LUKE SHARP. 


self-learned to abate a little of his vanity and 
have satisfaction, by reflection on the past, all 
might yet have been well ; he might have now 
commenced a career of usefulness and respect- 
ability. But all the lessons which for some 
time past he had been learning were calculated 
to make him think too highly of himself, and 
to set him above his rank in life. Knowledge, 
such as it was, he had certainly gained, but 
there was no sense of religion to balance it. 

And ^‘knowledge,” as the Scripture warns 
us, is that which “ puffeth up,” and an educa- 
tion which imparts knowledge only is god- 
less. 


LUKE SHARP. 


PAET IV 


was one person to whom the 
^ " "" permanent introduction of Luke 


QJif = 


into his uncle’s business was even 
more distasteful than to the boy himself, and 
that person was Barney Ford, the shopman, 
who, although very much trusted by his mas- 
ter, was a dishonest servant, and one who 
lost no opportunity of enriching himself at 
his master’s cost. 

With a swooth, plausible manner, and even 
an appearance of openness, he was wily and 
cunning, and perfectly unscrupulous as to the 
means he used to attain his ends. Dexterous 
and quick-witted, he had contrived not only 


126 


LUKE SHARP. 


to insinuate himself into Mr. Atkins’ confi- 
dence, but on more than one occasion, when 
his frauds would have been probably detected 
by a more acute master, he contrived to lull 
all suspicion against himself, and to fix it 
upon others. 

Now as this man’s whole life was a series of 
petty acts of dishonesty, each one trifling in 
itself so far as the value of the article stolen 
was concerned, yet in the aggregate of no 
mean importance, and as the greater part of 
these acts were perpetrated in the shop during 
his master’s absence, it was evident that the 
addition of a third person to the establish- 
ment would, if that person were to be. con- 
stantly in the shop, and gifted with only 
moderate powers of observation, be a most 
material check and hindrance to his proceed- 
ings. And to escape detection long with such 
a boy as Luke at his elbow, who had all his 
v/its about him, and who, from the circum- 
stances of his father’s trade, was by no means 
ignorant of the details of business, seemed 
altogether impossible. What course was he 
to pursue? This was a question, the reso- 


LUKE SHARP. 127 

lution of which cost Barney many an hour of 
anxious thought. 

Reflection, however, satisfied him that only 
two courses were open to him. He might 
lay aside his dishonest courses until he should 
have so effectually disgusted Luke with a gro- 
cer’s life, as to make him seek some other 
occupation, and thus leave the coast clear for 
him once more; or else he might seduce 
Luke to wink at, or abet him in his nefarious 
designs, and thus continue his present course 
without interruption. 

The first scheme would not be difiicult of 
accomplishment, because it was evident that 
Luke had no inclination to be a grocer, and 
thought himself fitted for higher things. But 
then dishonesty had become a second nature 
to Barney Ford, and not knowing how long 
it might be before he would be able to get 
rid of Luke, he could not make up his mind 
to forego his daily profits. The second plan 
had its difficulties, but Barney was an acute 
observer of character, and he argued that 
where the father had shown himself so un- 
scrupulous, the son was not likely to have been 


128 


LUKE SHARP. 


brought up to scruples, and he had already 
seen enough of Luke to anticipate that his 
vanity would before long bring him into 
necessities, and that then he would not be 
difficult to manage. He determined there- 
fore to draw Luke as soon as he could into 
some act of dishonesty, in the conviction that 
from that hour he would be his master, and 
that by threatening him with exposure he 
would speedily induce him to league with him 
in defrauding his employer. 

Alas ! how manifold are the trials to which 
young persons, of all ranks of life, (and per- 
haps those of Luke’s condition more than 
others), are exposed on their first entrance 
into the world. A fcAV, a very few years of 
discipline and instruction, and then they are, 
as it were, turned adrift on a wide and stormy 
sea to battle with all imaginable perils. And 
without a previous knowledge of the dangers 
that await them, and of the only safe methods 
by which the vessel can be managed ; without 
a compass to guide them in steering to the 
haven where they would be, what can befall 
them but utter shipwreck, to be dashed to 


LUKE SHARP. 


129 


pieces among breakers, or sucked in by whirl- 
pools, or stranded upon shoals, or engulphed 
by the stormy waves ? From within and from 
without how countless are the temptations 
which beset the young ! how innumerable 
and seductive the snares which Satan spreads 
along their path ! On the one hand, the pride 
and wilfulness of their own hearts, their self- 
confidence, their vanity, their love of pleasure, 
and of the applause of the world, their wild 
unholy lusts, their fear of ridicule, their 
recklessness of consequences, attract them 
towards, and, unresisted, will lead them along 
the path whose end is destruction: on the 
other, evil companions, the bad fashions of 
the world, and its constant habit of calling 
evil good and good evil, the removal of re- 
straintSj and the absence of a parent’s eye, all 
tend to increase the difficulties of even the 
well-disposed, and to render it a hard task for 
them to maintain their purity and integrity, 
and to maintain unbroken those awful, — most 
awful Baptismal vows, which can never be 
broken without extreme peril to the soph 
And such, even under the most favourable 


130 


LUKE SHARP. 


circumstancesj being the dangers of youth, 
what shall be said of that system which seiids 
forth the young into the world without the 
only thing which can bring them safe and un- 
harmed through their arduous course, which 
can alone give them strength in w^eakness, 
stedfastness in temptation, and courage to en- 
dure, — which alone will teach them to fear 

God and not man, that to have His favour 

) 

is better than to gain the world’s applause, 
and that to be pure and unspotted from the 
world is better than to have all that wealth and 
pov/er, and pleasure can bestow ? What shall 
be said of that system which aids the young 
in acquiring that Knoxoledge^ the purchase of 
which cost Adiim his portion in Paradise, and 
abstains from imbuing them with a love of 
that 'Godliness which is jjroJitahle for all 
thingSj having the promise of the life which 
now is, and of that which is to comeP 

But to return to our tale. There was one 
difficulty in Barney’s way which vexed him 
exceedingly, for it was a difficulty of his own 
making. In his previous behaviour to Luke 
he had shoAvn less than his usual caution, for 


LUKE SHARP. 


131 


it Avas smooth-tongued Barney’s way to keep 
well with every body, and not show likes or 
dislikes. His policy somewhat resembled that 
of the unjust steward in the parable ; he was 
anxious to make all the friends he could while 
he had the opportunity, in order that he might 
secure the countenance and aid of some upon 
whom he might fall back if ever a day of trou- 
ble and of account should come upon him. 

The sun,” he would say to himself, is on 
my side of the hedge now, so I will make 
hay Avhile it shines.” He therefore made 
himself as much as possible all things to 
all men. But so it fell out that he had not 
given himself the trouble to conciliate Luke, 
whom in his heart he thoroughly disliked. 

Luke had in former times given himself 
offensive airs of superiority, and had spoken 
disparagingly in Barney’s presence of such 
emplo^^ments as his ; and more than once he 
had complained to his uncle of something 
Barney had done to offend him. So it had 
been no small satisfaction to Ford to see the 
distress brought upon Luke by his father’s 
disgrace, and as has been seen, he took the 


132 


LUKE SHARP. 


earliest possible opportunity of wounding his 
pride. But his triumph was still greater when 
Luke himself had been brought into trouble ; 
and his malicious laugh was one of real joy 
when he saw Luke standing confused and 
downcast in his uncle’s presence, and receiv- 
ing the well-deserved reproof of Mr. Grinder- 
stone. 

However, when Barney heard the turn the 
conversation was taking, he saw immediately 
that he had committed a great error ; and he 
thought within himself that he would rather 
have bitten the tip of his tongue otf, than 
have uttered a sound which had so evidently 
betrayed the real state of his feelings. 

But what was done could not be undone. 
It must be his business to repair the mischief 
as speedily and effectually as he could ; so 
before he retired to rest that night he went to 
his master, and while expressing much pity 
for Luke, and earnest desire to assist him in 
bis new employment, contrived skilfully to 
throw in such praises of the old man’s kind- 
ness and generosity towards his nephew, that 
IVIr. Atkins assured Luke the very first thing 


LUKE SHARP. 


133 


in the morning that he had not a better friend 
in the world than Barney Ford. 

And as soon as Luke commenced his duties 
in the shop, Barney lost no means of quietly 
ingratiating himself. He prudently abstained 
from all allusion to the past, and contented 
himself with a few cordial expressions of 
sympathy for Luke’s misfortune, and regret 
that one who had such good prospects, and 
who was so capable of undertaking any office 
with credit to himself, and advantage to his 
employers, should he forced for a time, — 
Barney added he was confident it could be 
only for a short time, — to be in such an hum- 
ble situation as himself. And then Barney 
sighed and said that he had no prospects, he 
must he content to live and die a poor shop- 
man, but that Luke’s merits were such, and 
his talents already so well known, that he was 
certain to get on in the world, and make his 
fortune easily. 

Few people turn a deaf ear to flatteiy well 
administered ; few people who love to be 
flattered, fail, in the long-run, to like their 
flatterers. And such characters as Luke’s are 
12 


134 


LUKE SHARP. 


peculiarly liable to be brought under the 
influence of those who take the trouble to 
ascertain and work upon their weak points. 
This Barney Ford knew well enough, and 
took advantage of it, by affecting a deference 
to Luke on account of his cleverness and 
scholarship. 

The result was, that Luke first began to 
think Barney a very discriminating person, 
and one who made very sensible remarks: 
then, by degrees, he went on to think that he 
had formerly taken an unreasonable prejudice 
against him; and at length he was not only 
reconciled to him but liked him. Meanwhile, 
the cunning shopman aided, by his actions, 
the effect of his words. He saved I.uke as 
much as he could from the more menial occu- 
pations of his employer’s trade; he took all 
troublesome drudgery off his hands, and made 
things easy to him, so that at the end of six 
months Luke had not only got tolerably well 
reconciled to the shop, but had persuaded him- 
self that he had a friend in Barney. 

He little knew how Barney hated him,— 
hated him for his vanity, and the overbearing 


, LUKE SHARP. 


135 


self-sufficiency of his manner, — but hated him 
worst of all for the check which he interposed 
between the dishonest servant and his wicked 
gains. And the hatred grew more intense, 
because, before Imke liad been long in the 
shop, his uncle was seized with a complaint 
which confined him to his room for many 
weeks ; and Barney felt that while such an 
opportunity might never occur to him again, 
Luke was likely to render it almost altogether 
unprofitable to him. 

And yet he was cheating all the time, and 
he had even succeeded in persuading Luke he 
was not cheating. 

It happened one afternoon that a usual 
customer had called at the shop, and, among 
other things, had bought a pound of five-shil- 
ling tea. Before the canister had been moved 
off the counter, another person entered, and 
made some inquiries as to the price of Mr. 
Atkins’ teas. It was evident even to Luke 
that, from the manner she looked about the 
shop, and hesitated before she spoke, that the 
lady was a stranger. Barney’s quick eye told 
him something more, namely, that she was 


136 


LUKE SHARP. 


not only a stranger to the shop but to the town, 
and judging from her use of spectacles that 
her sight was not very good, he succeeded in 
making her pay seven shillings for the very 
same article for which the last customer had 
paid five ; and as soon as her back was turned, 
Barney winked his eye at Luke, and made 
such a comical face at him, and imitated the 
poor lady’s peculiar walk so successfully, that 
it was impossible to help laughing. But let us 
do Luke the justice to say, that his smile 
passed away immediately, and he felt quite 
horror-struck at the act of dishonesty. 

The whole affair had taken place so rapidly, 
that he at first thought he must have made 
some mistake about it; but then why had 
Barney winked at him ? It was evident that 
the transaction was a deliberate one, and that 
the shopman had knowingly cheated the cus- 
tomer out of two shillings. 

Luke felt his cheeks glowing with shame, 
and he was greatly vexed with himself that 
he had allowed the lady to go out of the shop 
without coming to an explanation. Then he 
thought he would go up-stairs at once and 


LUKE SHARP. 


137 


tell his uncle what had happened. Then he 
thought what an enemy he should have in 
Barney if he did. Then he hesitated what 
he should do, and whether it would not he 
best to pretend not to see what had happened, 
and wait for a second occasion (should such 
arise) before he spoke to Barney. 

And this latter plan he would have adopted, 
but Barney did not choose that the atfair 
should so end. All he had done, he had done 
upon calculation, and with the full knowledge 
that Luke’s eye was upon him. He thought 
the time was come when it v/as fit that they 
should understand each other, or at least ap- 
pear to do so, for he had no intention of open- 
ing himself wholly to Luke. 

Accordingly having made his grimace, 
Barney replaced the canister on its shelf, and 
then slowly counted out the money which lay 
upon the counter. 

“ One pound of Souchong at five shillings,” 
said he, making an Qntry in the till-book. 

One, two, three, four, five : that, Peter At- 
kins, is for you,” and he slipped the shillings 
through the hole that conveyed them to the 


138 


LUKE SHARP. 


till. ‘‘ Six, seven,” he continued, “ that is 
the old lady’s generosity to you, Barney 
Ford. Much obliged to you ma’am, and may 
you, and all who are like you, pay many visits 
to our shop.” And first Barney took up one 
shilling, and next the other very carefully, 
and deposited them in his waistcoat pocket. 

Up to this time Luke had been under the 
impression that, although an act of dishonesty 
had been committed, it had been done for the 
advantage of his absent uncle, but when he 
saw Ford coolly pocket the difference, he was 
so ashamed and so indignant, that he kept 
silence no longer. 

“Why, Barney!” he exclaimed, “what 
have you been doing ? ” 

“ Whom have I been doing ? I suppose you 
mean,” replied the shopman. “ I’m sure I 
don’t know, for I never saw her before. But 
1 have done her properly, haven’t I ? ” 

Luke was so taken aback with Ford’s 
effrontery, that he knew not what to say, and 
only repeated his former question, “What 
have you been doing ? ” 

“Shaving the lady,” replied Barney, with 


LUKE SHARP. 


139 


the same coolness as before. “ Where’s the 
harm ? ” 

Why it’s cheating ! ” said Luke in a tone 
of great disgust. 

“Whew?” whistled Barney Ford, with a 
prolonged whistle of amazement. “ Why, 
Luke, you don’t know what you’re talking 
about. Such words never pass between 
gentlemen. ‘ Cheating ’ is a word with an 
ugly sound about it. So I must have a little 
explanation if you please. Whom have I 
cheated ? ” 

“ The old lady in the yellow shawl.” 

“How?” 

“ By making her pay two shillings more 
than Mrs. Dickson did.” 

“ Make her pay ! I never made her pay. 
She asked to see some teas, and I told her 1 
could recommend her some at seven shillings, 
but I was ready to have sold it her at five. If 
she gave the money readily, where’s the cheat- 
ing ? Every tradesman has a right to all the 
profit he can get.” 

If Luke had been brought up like a Chris- 
tian he would have had a ready answer for 


140 


LUKE SHARP. 


this last remark: but his ideas on such sub- 
jects had been taken from his unhappy father. 
However, he did see one part ,of the fallacy 
of the argument, and observed that if two 
shillings additional had been made on the tea, 
that sum ought to have gone into the till, not 
into Barney’s pocket. 

“ By no means,” said Ford, “ I sold your 
uncle’s tea at his own price ; what more is 
made by it is made by my own sharpness, 
and, therefore, I have the best right to it ; be- 
sides all theu world knows and allows these 
little profits to be fair perquisites. All mas- 
ters that ever I heard of allow their men to 
have perquisites. There is no more cheating 
in taking one’s fair perquisite than in asking 
for one’s fair wages. And the more wages 
and the more perquisites that a poor fellow 
like me can get the better, for I am sure they 
are hardly enough earned. And indeed, if it 
were not for the perquisites few of us could 
live at all, for our wages are not enough to 
find us decent clothes, as I am afraid you 
must have found already.” 

This last remark was accompanied by a 


LUKE SHARP. 


141 


glance at Luke’s coat, which was certainly- 
growing very shabby. The boy looked at the 
stain on his culf, at the burst button-holes, at 
the places where buttons should have been, 
but were not, remembered the jeering re- 
mark of a smart acquaintance on a preceding 
Sunday, and in that sight and thought grew 
so confused, that he was unable to detect 
the false and deceitful reasonings of Barney 
Ford, and found himself beginning to think 
that he had been over hasty in his judgment, 
that there was nothing dishonest in doing 
what all the rest of the world did, and that, in 
point of fact, when viewed in its proper light, 
the system of perquisites was not at all objec- 
tionable. 

Such was the conclusion at which Luke ar- 
rived ; and hundreds allow themselves in the 
same opinion, each one of whom has some 
favourite argument of his own to allege in 
favour of what he does. The objection to the 
system, however, is to be found in four words, 
THOU SHALT NOT STEAL ; and till God has 
revoked his law against theft, it is not in 
the power of man to prove that perquisites 


142 


LUKE SHARP. 


are not sinful. It never can be otherwise 
than wrong to take and appropriate to oneV 
self that which belongs to another person, 
without that person’s direct knowledge and 
consent. The world may have a hundred 
names wherewith to disguise the true character 
of the act, — a hundred excuses wherewith to 
palliate it, and universal custom to quote in 
favour of it. But it is robbery notwithstand- 
ing, and as such must be accounted for in the 
day of final retribution. 

It is commonly said that such things only 
become ‘‘perquisites” as have either no value 
in the owner’s eyes, or have ceased to be of 
value. It is difficult to see how this affects 
the argument, or how the mere fact of a thing 
ceasing to be of value should give any but its 
original owner a title to it ; but we may be 
very sure of this, that unless perquisites were 
things which had a money- value, we should 
hear very little about them. And further, v/e 
may be sure that the cases are few indeed 
wherein those who allow themselves in per- 
quisites content themselves with what they 
were satisfied with at first. The whole sys- 


LUKE SHARP. 


143 


tern is so undefined, it is often so hard (even 
upon these persons’ own principles) to say 
where perquisites end, and pilfering begins, 
that no really well-disposed person will ever 
take a percfuisite. 

All habits must be dangerous which tend 
even remotely to set the conscience asleep, 
and to break down the barriers of right and 
wrong ; and this is the direct tendency of per- 
quisites. To the honest they are snares, to the 
jdishonest they are encouragements. Viewed 
as the world views them, they seem to have a 
plausible excuse. But this plausibility is their 
mischief. It tends to make the first descent 
into sin easy. And all steps downward, after 
the first is once taken^ are without difficulty. 
There are no more obstacles, no more opportu- 
nities for hesitation. Use and habit are every 
thing. 

Once more Luke came into the way of 
temptation, and once more, of course, he fell. 
Of course : because he was wanting in that 
which can alone enable a man to resist tempt- 
ation ; first, sound principles, which would 
have enabled him to discern between right 


144 


LUKE SHARP. 


and wrong, when brought before him ; and, 
secondly, grace and help from on high, which 
would have given him strength and power to 
refuse the evil, and choose the good. 

It was said by one who well knew the work- 
ings of the human heart, that a person does 
not hegm to fall when the fall is perceptible. 
The hand only obeys the suggestions of a 
heart which is already corrupted. In the case 
of the unhappy lad whose history we are tell- 
ing, his whole career had been a progress from 
bad to worse, because having never realized 
to himself the awfulness of those vows to 
which in his Baptism he was pledged ; having 
never been accustomed to consider God’s com- 
mandments the rule of his life, there was 
nothing within him to oppose itself to tempta- 
tion from without. If he struggled at all, it 
was only faintly and irresolutely, and so he 
was sure to be worsted in the contest. 

Hitherto he had not been dishonest, because 
he had not been in a position in which dis- 
honesty offered him advantages. He had now 
been thrown into circumstances in which the 
temptation would have power, and accord- 


LUKE SHARP. 


145 


ingly the enemy of souls presented it to him. 
At first, as we liave seen, he was shocked at 
the suggestion, biit in a while he ceased to 
feel his first aversion to it; he became less 
sensible of its hideousness, admitted the con- 
venience of the world’s extenuating language 
with respect to it ; in fine, was reconciled to 
it in another, and so came to practise it 
himself. 

And did he stop, good reader, think you, 
where he was? Was he contented with his 
share of “ perquisites,” so called ? No ; he 
had begun by listening to those who called 
evil good, and so he soon learned to do evil 
without thinking it necessary to find any 
excuse wherewith to lull his conscience. His 
mind became familiarized with sin, till he no 
longer felt repugnance to it. He put away 
from him the thought that God’s Eye was 
always upon him ; the only fear that agitated 
him was that arising from the apprehension 
that he might be detected by man. Under 
such circumstances, it will be readily con- 
ceived that in no long time he became an apt 
scholar of Barney Ford, and that the same 
13 


146 


LUKE SHARP. 


clev^erness which, under the influence of good 
principles, might have tended to the advan- 
tage of his worldly prospects, now only served 
to render him a quicker and more successful 
adept in evil. 

He soon learned what Ford represented (we 
hope and believe falsely) ‘Ho be the com- 
mon tricks of the trade ; ” he learned the arts , 
of adulteration and deception, the juggling 
artifices of false measures, and an unjust 
balance : the safest and most skilful methods 
of “taking in” unwary purchasers, and of 
cheating at one and the same time his own 
employer and the public. 

Of course Ave shall not enter into the detail 
of these unchristian acts, nor do our readers so 
questionable a service as instruct them in 
modes of dishonesty, of which they are hap- 
pily ignorant. The good would only peruse 
such things with pain, and for the evil-dis- 
posed we do not write. It is sufficient to say 
that Luke Sharp ceased to be honest. It is 
true that the amount of his unlawful gains 
was small. His frauds and peculations were 
not likely to do his master any serious injury 


LUKE SHARP. 


147 


either in pocket or good name. But he who 
will steal a pin will steal a purse. The bar- 
rier between honesty and dishonesty was bro- 
ken down in Luke’s mind, and all that now 
was wanting to make him a bolder or more 
notorious criminal were the temptation and 
the opportunity. 

So far, then, Barney Ford had been suc- 
cessful. He had so far seduced Luke into his 
own evil courses, that he had no longer any 
fear that the latter would betray him. For 
his own sake he must be silent. Nevertheless 
Barney still longed after his former liberty. 
While any eye was upon him, he knew that 
he was not safe, and his covetousness was con- 
tinually suggesting the thought that he was 
’ now only making half the profits which for- 
I merly came to him entire. 

The companionship of the wicked is never 
I lasting; their friendship is hollow. Self-inte- 
) rest may unite them for a time, but when that 
j tie is broken, there is nothing else to hold 
I them together ; and they are soon ready for 
treachery, or for any yet more hostile act 
against each other. 

i 


148 * LUKE SHARP. V 

Thus Luke and Barney went on together v 
for two ^^ears, on good terms outwardly, for j 
it was to their advantage not to quarrel with ' 
one another, but without any mutual regard, 
esteem, or respect. Luke, indeed, had no 
secret feelings against his companion, and 
rather liked his society than disliked it ; for 
Ford still flattered his weak points, and 
affected to admire greatly his scholarship and 
cleverness. 

The wily shopman, on the other hand, ] 
never for a moment lost sight of his real ^ 
objects. He disliked Luke far more at the end ; 
of three years than he had done at the begin- 
ning of that period, for every day he felt him 
more and more in the way ; but he concealed ' 
his aversion more carefully than ever, lest any 
exposure of his real feelings should mar his 
schemes. He had succeeded in securing 
Luke’s silence ; but, as the reader knows, 
there was another point at which he was aim- 
ing, — Luke’s removal from his uncle’s esta- 
blishment. And Barney was resolved never 
to rest till he had effected this object. For a 
while he endeavoured, whenever he had the 


LUKE SHARP. 


165 


“ Well, it’s the masters’ own fault,” replied 
another voice, “ but they’ll find out their mis- 
take by and by.” 

. Luke felt sure he knew the voices, but 
was afraid to turn round and look at the 
speakers : he had a foreboding of something 
unpleasant, and quickened his pace. There 
were four persons walking arm-in-arm just in 
front of him, so he could not advance as 
rapidly as he wished, and he was constrained 
to hear a few words more, though they were 
spoken in an under tone. 

“ Look at that ape before us ! Did you 
; ever see such a figure? He must have had 

' the choice pickings out of some old Jew 

clothesman’s bag.” 

“ Hush. I dare say it all came from old 
j Abrahams’. That fellow is the ruin of all our 

I apprentices : sells them stolen goods cheap. 

Inspector Irons must watch him more closely. 

I Let us pass the boy and see who he is.” 

! This was too much for Luke. If his vanity 
j had been wounded by the first part of what he 

! had heard, his fears had been no less aroused 

i by the last observations. So without taking 


166 


LUKE SHARP. 


time to consider, he darted forward for the 
purpose of passing the persons who were in 
immediate advance of him. To etfect this it 
was necessary that he should step off the - 
causeway into the road. Unluckily for him, 
in the act of doing so, his heel rested on a 
treacherous piece of orange-peel. He slipped, 
staggered, reeled, and fell flat on his back, in 
the muddy gutter, with his head at the feet of 
his old acquaintances Messrs. Grinderstone 
and Slag ! 

There are, perhaps, few persons who have 
not, at some time of their lives, experienced 
the discomfort of being brought into close and 
sudden contact with the individual in the 
world whom they would most wish to avoid. 
My readers, therefore, will understand some- 
thing of Luke’s sensation when his eyes met 
those of the partners in the Phoenix Foundry : 
but I heartily trust they may never have such 
cause to blush and hide their faces as Luke 
had. He struggled up instantly, for he felt 
that in the rapidity of his movements con- 
sisted his only chance of not being recognized. 
But his was a case of most haste, worse 


LUKE SHARP. 


167 


speed,” for the orange-peel still stuck to his 
heel, and in his effort to right himself, he 
gave his ancle such a twist that he was very- 
near falling a second time. 

‘‘Take your time, man, take your time,” 
cried Mr. Slag laughing, “ or you’ll be in the 
gutter again.” 

“Are you hurt?” asked Mr. Grinderstone, 
as Luke began to limp away as fast as the 
strain would allow him. 

“No, sir,” replied Luke, hurrying on, and 
keeping his face away from the person who 
addressed him. 

“ Then why do you limp so? Stop a mo- 
ment,” said the fat partner, who had no idea 
of being in a hurry under any circumstances. 

Luke would not have stopped if he could 
have helped it, but every moment he felt 
greater difficulty in moving, and he was forced 
to support himself by the wall. 

“I think I should know your face,” ob- 
served Mr. Slag, looking hard at him, “but 
you lads make such figures of yourselves on 
Sundays, there is no recognizing you.” 

“ Aye, aye,” interposed Grinderstone, “ ‘ fine 


168 


LUKE SHARP. 


feathers make fine birds ; ’ but you’ve draggled 
your tail-feathers properly, I can tell you.” 

Luke turned round to inspect his muddy 
coat, and in so doing was recognized. 

“ Hey ! what ! why you’re the runaway 
that we met upon the moor are you not ? the, 
the ” 

“ The promising boy that you gave the book 
to, Grinderstone,” added Slag, helping his part- 
ner’s imperfect recollections. “ Times have 
mended with you,” he continued, addressing 
Luke, “ what are you doing now ? ” 

“ I’m still living with my uncle, sir.” 

“ And is that waistcoat your own taste or 
your uncle’s ? ” asked Mr. Slag. 

“ My own, sir,” replied Luke, not a little 
confused. 

“ And the stock ? that of course is your 
own ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ And when you’ve chosen your wardrobe, 
your uncle pays for it ? ” 

“ Yes, sir, .... No sir,” answered ’Luke, 
growing more and more confused at this kind 
of cross-examination. 


LUKE SHARP. 


169 


“Yes, sir, no, sir! what kind of an answer 
is that? Do you know who it is that rides 
upon debt’s back?” asked Mr. Grinderstone 
sternly. 

“ No, sir.” 

“ Lying does. Lying rides upon debt’s 
back.” 

Luke’s face grew scarlet to the very roots of 
his hair. He did not know what to answer. 
At last he began in a saucy tone, “ I suppose, 
sir, you insinuate . . . .” 

“ I insinuate nothing,” said Mr. Grinder- 
stone quietly. 

“ You said something about debt, sir, and 
lying, sir, and if you mean to apply that to 

me . . .” 

I “ My friend, if you find the cap fits, you had 
better wear it, without making more ado.” 

“ I don’t know what right you have to take 
, away my character,” said Luke in an angry 
^ tone. 

[ “ Dear me, young man,” observed Mr. 

I Slag, who had been quietly watching the 
I changes, in Luke’s unhappy face. “You 
quite mistake matters ; it is you, not we, who 
15 


170 


LUKE SHARP. 


are taking away your character ; nobody 
can lose their character but by some act or > 
indiscretion of their own. If a grocer’s ap- 
prentice is seen strutting about like a strol- 
ling player, dressed beyond his means, and 
above his rank, and if his master is known to 
be too ill to look after him, and if he grows 
confused and saucy when he is spoken to by 
those whose years and situation give them a 
right to speak and expostulate, sober-minded 
folks can* come but to one conclusion, that 
such a person is at least on the road to ruin, 
though they may not know how far he has 
gone along it.” 

And putting his arm into his companion’s, 
Mr. Slag only added, “ I believe, Grinderstone, 
we should have done better by him, if we had 
left him that night to learn a trade among the 
nailers, as Run-away Jem did.” 

And then the two partners turned down the 
next street, and left Luke to his own reflec- 
tions. 

Meanwhile, with a sprained ankle, with his 
smart coat dripping with the mud of the gut- 
ter, and with a mind ill at ease, Luke found 


LUKE SHARP. 


171 


himself exposed to the laughter of the ragged 
children that had gathered round him, and 
worse than all, to the grinning salutations of 
his smart friends, who passed and repassed 
him as he hobbled along, and continually- 
added to his discomfiture by taking no pains 
to conceal from his wounded vanity that they 
took his misfortune in the light of a capital 
joke. 

How are you off for mud ? ” asked one. 

“ Why Luke, you’re quite a nosegay ! ” 
said another. “ What strong perfumes you 
use.” 

“I say,” enquired a third, “which do you 
like best, Grinderstone or Slag? Are they 
going to take you into partnership with 
them ? ” 

How thankful was Luke when he reached 
his uncle’s house, — ^^how thankful to get up- 
stairs, and tear off all his smart habiliments, 
and to slip on the shabby but more respectable 
dress, which he had hitherto been accustomed 
to wear on Sundays ! 

With what changed feelings he looked on 
his recent purchases ! How he wished the 


172 


LUKE SHARP. 


whole suit was back again on Levi Abrahams’ 
shelves ! and that he was out of debt to 
Barney ! 

‘‘ Certainly,” thought he to himself, “ if I 
had known how little enjoyment I should have 
had this day, I would not have been in such a 
hurry ! ” And then he fell into a reverie, and 
reflection followed reflection, each one more 
painful than another, about the had kind of 
life he was leading. And, angry as he was at 
them, he* could not get Mr. Slag’s words out 
of his head, especially what he had said about 
the road to ruin. 

Thus Luke had once more an opportunity 
afforded him of breaking off in his career of 
sin and folly. He learned, by bitter expe- 
rience, that even the attainment of his wishes 
could bring no satisfaction to him, unless the 
things on which the heart is set are right. He 
had been startled by finding how diflerently 
from what he thought of himself others 
thought of him. — He had had a taste of the 
hollowness of worldly friendship. All these 
were things calculated to induce him to pause. 
It was not too late to retrace his steps. 


LUKE SHARP. 


173 


Thus mercifully are we dealt with; thus 
kindly does Providence beset the paths of sin 
with thorns and briers, in order that, by the 
misery we find in yielding to temptations, by 
personal experience, that even in this world 
transgression and punishment invariably follow 
each other, we may be induced to resist the 
tempter, and to keep close to the observance of 
our Baptismal promises. 

Luke was miserable, dissatisfied with him- 
self, and every thing else, and when he went 
to bed he was wishing and half resolving to 
become different from what he had been of 
late. And had he but betaken himself to 
earnest prayer, and unsparing self-examina- 
tion, he might and would have had Grace 
given him, which would have enabled him to 
confirm and strengthen those resolutions. 

But, instead of doing this, he allowed his 
mind to dwell on the difficulties of retracing 
his steps, — on the humiliation to which he 
would be 'exposed; how he would be laughed 
at ; how painful it would be to break through 
his present habits. And as he lay tossing 
about uneasily in bed, the difficulties seemed 


174 


LUKE SHARP. 


to increase more and more, and he became 
more and more irresolute, and so fell asleep. 

And with his dreams his good intentions 
passed away: and the morrow found him as 
before, with Barney Ford for his adviser, with 
ears ready to drink in with satisfaction an 
account of the doings at Hob’s Hole, and proud 
to listen to a message from Joe Swindell, 
inviting him to be present at “the sports” 
which were to take place there on a Sunday 
which he named. 

From this time Luke Sharp thought no 
more of his resolutions of amendment. On 
the contrary, he was becoming daily more and 
more indisposed to good ; and when he found 
that among the had companions with whom 
he was associating, little was thought of his 
cleverness and scholarship, in his ambition to 
hold a foremost place at all hazards, he soon 
grew desirous to surpass them in vice, and to 
become a leader in profligacy. He grew 
careless, and reckless, and joined, without any 
of his previous misgivings and hesitation, in 
all their evil doings. 


LUKE SHARP. 


175 


We shall not weary and disgust our readers 
with any details of the low company and 
degrading scenes with which the unhappy 
youth now connected himself, nor shall we 
think it necessary to point out the methods 
through which, by little and little, Barney 
Ford contrived to corrupt his mind, and to lead 
him on to ruin. 

When a fly has entangled itself in a spider’s 
web, the spider allows it to struggle for a 
while in order that its wings and feet may get 
more and more hampered and entangled : then 
it issues from its hiding-place, runs down the 
guiding line till it reaches its prey, wraps it 
round and round with fresh-spun threads, till 
the victim is so involved in them as to be 
able to make no resistance, and then it feeds 
on it leisurely. The instinctive habits of the 
spider are an exact illustration of the proceed- 
ings of Barney Ford. 

It must be left to the reader’s sagacity to 
determine whether it was not in consequence 
of some previous arrangement with this wily 
scoundrel and Joe Swindell, that Luke was 
invited to Hob’s Hole on the Sunday after he 


176 


LUKE SHARP. 


had received his half-year’s wages, and a few 
days before his debt to Ford, together with its 
heavy interest, was to be paid. Suffice it to 
say, that on that occasion Luke was received 
by Joe and his set with much apparent kind- 
ness, that there was a good deal of additional 
drinking, apparently in honour of the new 
guest ; that liUke was gradually led to bet on 
the event of the sports ; ” that he was at first 
uniformly successful, and hailed by his com- 
panions as an extremely judicious better ; that 
his vanity was flattered, and he was plied with 
more drink, till he grew confident; that he 
then betted all he was worth on a single issue, 
and lost. 

How he got home he knew not: but he 
woke on the Monday morning with a racking 
headache, without a shilling in the world, a 
heavy debt to pay, and an eager creditor. 

“ Oh, Barney, Barney ! how could you let 
me get into such trouble,” he exclaimed in 
the bitterness of his heart, as the shopman 
came into his room to see if he were dressed. 

“ Nay, I couldn’t help it,” replied the other. 
^‘You would not be guided by anybody. It 


LUKE SHARP. 177 

was the drink that did it; you were like a 
madman.” 

‘‘ I was indeed mad,” said Luke with a 
deep sigh. 

“ If I were you, I would make it a rule 
never to bet when you drink. Do one or the 
other, which you please, but don’t do both at 
the same time. I never do. A man who 
wants to win should have his head clear, and 
his pulse quiet.” 

Luke^could only answer with a groan, 

'Qh, don’t take matters to heart so ; you’ll 
be better by-and-by, and you’ll have better 
luck next time. Gentlemen who play must 
expect ups and downs. Man^^ a one that has 
got up a beggar, has gone to bed rich. You 
must bet again.” 

Bet again ! ” exclaimed Luke. Why, 
you know as well as I do that I have lost all^ 
and shall not have a shilling of my own for 
six months to come,” 

^‘Why, Luke,” cried the other, with welh 
feigned astonishment, ‘^you have ilot betted 
away my money, I hope. You have never 
done such a thing as that,” 


178 


LUKE SHARP 


“ I have, though,” replied Luke, in a tone of 
dismay. 

“ You have ! ! ” ' thundered out Ford, with a 
shocking oath. “ You have, and you stand 
there cool and comfortable, and as hold as 
brass, to confess that you can’t and won’t pay 
a debt of honour ! ” 

“ That I canH^ not that I loonHP 

Barney gave an incredulous shrug. “ It’s 
all the same,” said he. 

“No, it isn’t,” replied Luke. “1 loill pay, 
indeed I will, as soon as I can.” 

“ As soon as you can,” cried the other 
with a sneer. “ I wonder when that will be. 
At ‘ to-morrow come never,’ I suppose. Why 
you’re nothing better than a poor, pitiful, 
sneaking, lying cheat. A fine account I shall 
give of you to Swindell, and Haggerty, and 
Spragge, and Horrocks, and the rest of them ! 
There isn’t one of them that will ever speak to 
you again. They are not folks to shirk their 
debts of honour, I can tell you.” 

“Nor am I one to shirk my debts. I’m 
ready to take back to old Abrahams’ all the 
things I bought of him. I haven’t worn them 


LUKE SHARP. 


179 


half-a-dozen times. I’ll do anything you 
wish ; but don’t expose me to Swindell. I had 
rather anything happened than that.” 

Barney seemed rather softened. “ Well, 
you can take your things,” he said, “ to Abra- 
hams’ this evening.” 

And Luke did so ; and, as the reader will 
have anticipated, Mr. Levi Abrahams was by 
no means willing to receive them back. His 
shop was over-stocked already, he said; the 
fashion was altered ; articles of that particular 
description were not worn so much as formerly ; 
then, there was a stain on the back of the coat, 
and the satin stock was ‘ frayed ; ’ no, he must 
beg to decline the purchase. 

Luke was about to leave the shop. 

“ That is to say, Mr. Sharp,” continued the 
Jew, “ I should decline it in the case of any 
other customer, but I shall be glad to oblige 
you. Let me see, it will be a dead loss, but 
I think I must not consider that for once. I 
will give you ten shillings for the lot.” 

Ten shillings for what three weeks before 
had cost three pounds, and had been declared 
to be worth six ! It was now Luke’s turn to 


180 


LUKE SHARP. 


hesitate; and he told the Jew, after a mo- 
ment’s reflection, that as he was in difficulties 
he must try and find a better market. 

“ In difficulties are you, sir ? ” said Levi in 
a sympathising tone (for he had already had 
his lesson from Barney Ford), “ I am very 
sorry to hear it. The times are had for us 
all. But dear, dear, why should you sell your 
own clothes because you are in difficulties? 
Couldn’t you borrow a few goods ? I should 
be happy to advance you cash on that kind 
of security, and the goods could be replaced 
at your convenience, you know. I assure you, 
sir, it is a thing which is done every day. In 
fact, half our customers do it.” 

“Really?” said Luke with some degree of 
eagerness, yet feeling all the while that he 
was utterly disgracing himself by listening to 
such a proposal. 

“ Oh, nothing so common,” replied the 
crafty Jew, leading the way into a back par- 
lour, and seating Luke beside him. “ If you 
will take the trouble to ask any of your 
acquaintance, or any of the other gentlemen 


LUKE SHARP. 


181 


who are in my line of business, you will find 
that it is as I say.” 

And then Abrahams went on to show how 
easily it might be done, and to remove Luke’s 
scruples : winding up the argument by the 
remark, that it would he a thousand pities if 
such a handsome, well-educated young man 
were to be compelled to go about in shabby 
clothes, after having been so decently dressed, 
and to make himself a butt and a laughing- 
stock to all his friends in the town. 

And this paltry temptation, and gross flat- 
tery, working on the vanity and fears of Luke, 
at length prevailed. And, reader, if you won- 
der that such should have been the case, you 
must remember that his mind had long been 
losing its sense of the difierence between right 
and wrong through his habits of petty pilfer- 
ing and daily falsehood. It is only the first 
step, as we have already taken occasion to 
mention, in the downward path of guilt that is 
difficult : that once taken, all the rest is easy. 
And downward will ever be the course of 
those who have knowledge without religion, 
and cleverness without principle. 

16 


182 


LUKE SHARP. 


“Blit how am I to get at the goods in 
the warehouse?” asked X^uke, after a pause. 
“ My uncle always keeps the key himself.” 

“ Oh, you must borrow one, I suppose, 
unless you know where he keeps it. What 
sort of a key is it ? ” 

Luke described it. 

“ Do you think any of these would fit the 
lock?” asked the Jew, carelessly throwing 
down a bunch, in which he very well knew 
there was one which would give admittance 
into Mr. Atkins’ warehouse, seeing that Barney 
Ford had already tried it. 

Luke said he did not see any that looked 
just the same, and the respectable Mr. Abra- 
hams did not at present think it desirable to 
enlighten his mind on the history and mystery 
of skeleton keys. He only slipped one off the 
bunch, and as he put it into Luke’s hand 
observed, “ I think, from your description, 
that this one may do. You had better try it 
sometime when the house is quiet. And if 
it fits, you can put the cinnamon and nutmegs 
in a hag, and bring them down here the first 
time you go out on an errand. You had bet- 


LUKE SHARP. 


183 


ter come about mid-day, and then nobody will 
suspect anything. And you must not come 
into the shop, but go to our side door, and ring 
twice.” 

That same evening, with a beating heart, 
Luke proceeded to the warehouse, inserted 
the key into the lock, found that it fitted it, 
opened the door, entered, filled his bag, and 
returned — a FELON. 

But no eye, save One, which never sleeps, 
had seen, him ; he was safe, so far as the per- 
son whom he had injured was concerned, and 
not the slightest accident occurred to excite his 
fears. Yet his guilty conscience made him 
feel that every olie whom he met was suspect- 
ing him or watching him, and more than once 
in the course of the ensuing night he left his 
sleepless bed, and groped his way down stairs 
for the purpose of ascertaining that the bag 
was still in the corner in which he had 
placed it. 

The first time he went down in the dark, 
and so returned. The second time, through 
some vague, nervous apprehension which had 
taken possession of him, that he had fceen 


184 


LUKE SHARP. 


deceived, and had felt something which was 
not his bag, he took a lucifer match with him. 

“Oh, what a thing is science,” he thought 
within himself. “ What a convenience to be 
able to get a light without noise or trouble ! ” 
And he rubbed the match against the stone 
floor, and it burst into a flame. What was 
his horror, when he looked up, to see Barney 
Ford standing at his elbow ! 

With the greatest difficulty he avoided utter- 
ing a shriek of despair. His teeth chattered, 
he broke into a cold sweat, and would have 
fallen backwards if Barney had not caught 
him. 

Had there been a spectator of the scene, 
such an one, even by the pale sulphurous 
gleam of the match whiVh had fallen on the 
ground, might have seen a smile of hideous 
joy and triumph pass over the face of the 
shopman ; but it was not his object yet to 
throw off the mask. 

“ Hush ! hush ! ” whispered he, gently lay- 
ing his hand on Luke’s shoulder, “ hush ! my 
good fellow, don’t be alarmed. I was waked 
by^he creaking of your door, and the sound 


LUKE SHARP. 


185 


f- 

k 

; of your steps, and so followed you down 
. stairs, fearing you were ill; but I see you 
f have been only walking in your sleep. I used 
to do so myself when I was a boy. Hush ! 
don’t speak, or we shall wake somebody, and 
they will begin to wonder what we are doing 
about the house at this time of night. Hush ! 
don’t answer. Lean on my shoulder, and let 
us get to bed again.” 

‘ And Barney led him up stairs, and made him 
get into bed, and then gently closed the door, and 
returned to his own apartment. But as he went 
I he rubbed his hands, and muttered to himself. 
The trap is down. Another fool caught.” 

I Luke buried his face in his pillow in an 
. agony of fear and misery. Had he been dis- 
j. ' covered? Would Barney betray him? Wbat 
; would be the next step? What would be- 
I come of him ? Oh wretched, wretched youth ! 

‘‘ There is no peace,” saith the Word of God, 
i ‘‘/or the loicked.’’^ 

In the morning Ford entered his room before 

he was dressed, and inquired after his health 

in the most natural manner, and as if he sus- 

^ pected nothing. ^ 
f > ' ■ 


186 


LUKE SHARP. 


Luke persua?ded himself that he had not 
been detected. “ And yet,” thought he, “ what 
does it matter ? sooner or later he must know. 
It was he who first put the idea into my head, 
and when I pay him the money, he must guess 
where it comes from. I had better tell him.” 

And he began to do so, hut Barney ingeni- 
ously prevented him from making any dis- 
closure, and hastily left the room. The 
business of the shop, and influx of customers, 
prevented any further conversation till noon, 
when Ford desired Luke to go out into the 
town with some parcels. Luke availed him- 
self of the opportunity, carried the bag down 
to Levi Abrahams’, and in a few seconds saw 
three bright sovereigns shining in his hand, 
and received the Jew’s assurance that he should 
be at all times ready to do business with him. 

Luke hurried out of the house, threaded 
his way through the narrow alleys and pas- 
sages, saw constable Irons in the distance, and 
hid behind a gate- way till he had passed, and 
only stopped to take breath when he got into 
the High Street. “ The wickedj'^ saith Solo- 
mon, when no man pursueth.^^ 


LUKE SHARP. 


187 


But Luke was not destined to reach home 
without interruption; for, before he had gone 
many paces, he received a slap on the shoul- 
der, and a hearty voice exclaimed, “ Why, 
Ijuke, liUke Sharp ! I was sure it was you 
before 1 crossed over. How glad am I to see 
you again ! How are you ? ” 

Luke started, turned pale, and stared at the 
stranger, who was a youth of his own age, 
comely and well knit, better dressed than him- 
self, with a happy innocent expression of 
countenance, such as it is a pleasure to look 
upon. 

‘‘ Eh ! what ? you don’t pretend not to know 
me, do you? You haven’t forgotten Ned 
Smith, have you ? Why, man, I’ve frightened 
you out of your wits, you look as if you had 
seen a ghost, or as if the constable were at 
your heels.” 

Luke started once more, and looked behind 
him, and then his face changed from paleness 
to crimson. He stammered forth some expres- 
sion of surprise, and added, though the words 
seemed to choke him, that he was glad to see 
an old friend. 


188 LUKE SHARP. 

“ Glad ! I should think so indeed ! And 
how are you ? I should have known you any- 
where, but this sooty, smok}^, stinking town 
don’t seem to agree with you ; you are thin, 
and care-worn to what you used to be.” 

Luke could only sigh and turn away his 
head from Ned’s searching gaze. 

‘‘ And so you really didn’t know me ? ” con- 
tinued Smith, with a merr}^ laugh. 

“ Yihjj I wasn’t thinking about old times 
just then, Ned,” said Luke, “ and you have 
shot up into such a man, and you’ve put out 
such a beard.” 

“ Aye, aye, father says anybody might 
swear I was his son by my black muzzle. 
But how are you, man? and what are you 
doing? And how are you getting on? You’ve 
got a shop of your own by this time. I’ll be 
bound. You were so sharp at your book, you 
always beat me hollow, though I was a couple 
of years older than you. Have you seen old 
Dilwyn lately ? ” 

It was lucky for Luke that such a quantity 
of questions had been proposed to him, that it 
was only necessary for him to answer that par- 


LUKE SHARP. 


189 


ticular one which he pleased. He replied that 
he was still with his uncle Atkins ; and, anx- 
ious to divert the inquiry from himself, he 
proceeded to ask his companion what he was 
doing, and where he was living. 

‘‘ Oh,” answered Ned, “ never was any one 
such a lucky fellow as I am. Something 
happened after you left Yateshull which gave 
Mr. Warlingham a good opinion of me . . . .” 

Nay, he had always that, — and you de- 
served it,” said Luke sadly enough, ‘‘ but what 
happened ? ” 

“ Never mind that,” replied Ned blushing, 
though he might well have been proud to 
tell. The long and short of it was, that 
the Vicar thought me steady and trustworthy, 
and so he never rested till he got xme into 
Mr.. Wren’s (the architect’s) office at Staf- 
ford. And Mr. Wren is so kind, and I am 
getting on so famously. I’m as happy as the 
day is long.” 

“And what are you doing here?” 

“ I’m come over on Mr. Wren’s business, 
about the church.” 

“'What church ? ” 


190 


LUKE SHARP. 


“ Why, that which is going to be built in 
place of the old one up yonder.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know .... I hadn’t heard,” 
replied Luke in some confusion. 

“ Hadn’t heard? why where have you been 
living? You go to church, I suppose?” 

Luke was glad to evade an answer. He 
was now within a few yards of his uncle’s 
shop, and he said he was afraid he could not 
stop any longer. 

“I’ll go with you,” said Ned, “and ask 
them to spare you for a bit this afternoon. 
Couldn’t you meet me at the Crown at six ? ” 
Ned grew so urgent that Luke could find no 
more excuses, and promised to come. 

Lost and miserable as he was, the thought 
of talking with an old companion of by-gone 
years of comparative innocence, was a greater 
happiness to him than anything he had felt for 
many months. It was as if he had passed out 
of a poisoned atmosphere into one of health 
. and purity. But alas ! the poison which he 
had inhaled had already corrupted his blood, 
and the purest air will not restore those on 
whose vitals disease is preying. 




! 


LUKE SHARP. 


191 


And Lake’s better impulses soon passed 
away, for in a few moments more he was in 
the company of his tempter. 

“Who was that gentleman to whom you 
were talking ? ” asked Barney, whose fears and 
suspicions were always on the alert. 

“ Only an old school-fellow, Ned Smith,” 
replied Luke. “ I have not seen him since 
I’ve been at Birdsley, and if you can spare mo 
a bit this evening, I have promised to meet 
him at the Crown.” 

Barney’s face was overcast. “ I don’t know 
whether I can,” said he, “ and besides, I want 
to speak to. you about that small debt you owe 
me. You know to-morrow’s the day for pay- 
ment, and I really must have it.” 

“ Oh dear me,” replied Luke, “ 1 was think- 
ing of Ned Smith, and forgot the money. 
Here it is,” he continued, producing the three 
sovereigns. 

“ Why, Luke,” and Barney affected to start 
with surprise, “ Where did you get this ? 
You told me you were quite done up, and 
here’s the bright gold notwithstanding.” And 
Barney rung each separate piece on the coun- 


192 


LUKE SHARP. 


ter. “ Ha, ha,” he continued, “ I was afraid 
you had taken to coining. Where did you 
get it ? ” 

It has cost me dear enough,” said Luke, 
turning away with a groan. 

‘‘ How so? have you turned highwayman?” 

“ No, no, you know well. I see that in your 
face. Barney, I followed your advice.” 

“ My advice ! la ! what do you mean ?” 

“ I took some goods out of the warehouse.” 

“ Dear, dear, is that all ? Why, what a 
pother you make about trifles. If you had 
been stealing instead of borrowings you could 
not have looked more guilty.” 

I feel as if I had been stealing,” replied 
Luke, and the tears came unbidden into his 
eyes. 

“ How can you be such a fool ? ” asked 
Ford. ‘‘You know as well as I do that you 
have no such intention. You know you mean 
to replace what you have taken. At least I 
have been quite mistaken in you if you do 
not.” And, as he uttered the last words, the 
shopman endeavoured to assume a look of vir- 
tuous indignation. 


LUKE SHARP. 193 

“Of course I do,” replied LuKe, with much 
earnestness. 

“ Well, where’s the harm then? You do no 
more than everybody else does,” added the 
wicked liar. 

“ It’s a comfort to hear you say so, Bar- 
ney.” 

“ The case is as I tell you : you may rely 
on my word. Therefore don’t make yourself 
uneasy. Have you got any more money ? ” 

“No, I only took goods enough to enable 
me to repay you.” 

“ That was a pity; for while you were 
about it, it would have been no risk or trouble 
to have taken a little more, and money you 
must have directly.” 

“Why?” 

“ That is just what I’m going to tell you. 
Since you have been out Joe Swindell has 
been in, to ask us both to put into the raffle. 
His grandmother has left him a gold watch 
and seals, and as he has got a watch already 
he doesn’t want another. And so he’s going 
to have a raffle to-morrow. Twenty tickets at 
five shillings each. He said he could have 
17 


194 


LUKE SHARP. 


sold all the tickets in half-an-hour, but he had 
purposely kept back two for us.” 

But I cank take a ticket,” replied Luke. 
“ I have got no money.” 

“ Oh, it’s quite impossible that you can do 
such an atfronting thing as to refuse, after Joe 
has gone out of his Avay to pay you such a 
compliment. If you do that you must make 
up your mind that he will never speak to you 
again. And then you are so lucky, — always 
so lucky, — that I would wager anything almost 
that you win the watch. You never saw such 
a handsome one, and such a beautiful seal, 
with a thistle, and ‘Dinna forget’ cut on the 
stone.” 

This was true, but the watch was stolen, 
and Swindell was anxious to get rid of it. If 
Luke had reflected for a moment he would 
have known that Joe must have had some 
other reason than appeared, for selling a gold 
watch, chain, and seals for five pounds. But 
clever people sometimes think reflection unne- 
cessary. 

There was a pause. The thought of such 
an addition to his possessions was very daz- 


LUKE SHARP. 


195 


zliiig. A watch! it was the thing he had 
been longing for for years. And then such 
an opportunity as the present ! The chance 
of getting such a valuable thing for a mere 
trifle ! The temptation grew stronger and 
stronger every moment. There was no sense 
of religion, and so Luke made no resist- 
ance. 

“ How unfortunate I ” he exclaimed, what 
a miserable fellow I am I What can I do, 
Barney ? ” 

“ Do ? ” — said Barney, with a laugh, as if 
j what he suggested was so obvious ‘ to the 
i meanest capacity’ as to be a matter of course, — 
“ Do? why, what you have done already, to be 
sure. Milk the cow to-night that yon milked 
last night.” 

“ But I’ve taken so much already, — three 
pounds’ worth.” 

“ Well, you only want five shillings more. 

I What are five shillings? I’ll engage to s^y 
that if you look sharp you’ll replace the whole 
sum in a couple of months. Come, take my 
advice ; if you’ll be home by about nine o’clock 
! this evening. I’ll take care that the coast is 


196 


LUKE SHARP. 


clear, and you can go in and get what you 
want.” 

Once more Luke yielded. 

O you^ if any such there he, who read these 
pages, who are hesitating in yo'nr minds 
whether to do, or abstain from’ doing, what 
your conscience does not approve, he warned, 
he warned in time hy the example of this 
unhappy youth, and fiee from that which is 
still in your power to escape ! 

Six o’clock came, and Luke was on his way 
to meet Ned Smith ; but all his light-hearted- 
ness had fled, and instead of anticipating a 
pleasant meeting, he felt like a criminal going 
to be condemned. 

Something there had been in his manner 
and appearance which had filled the mind of 
his school-fellow with melancholy foreboding 
respecting him, which further inquiry abun- 
dantly confirmed. He had been shocked by 
liUke’s haggard looks and reckless manner, 
and that indescribable something, which it is 
impossible to mistake, but which is so distress- 
ing and revolting to an uncorrupted mind, and 
which is the sure index and token of habits of 


LUKE SHARP. 


197 


early viciousness. “ To the pure,” saith the 
Apostle, “all things are pure: hut unto them 
that are defiled and unbelieving is nothing 
pure; but even their mind and conscience is 
defiled.” 

In vain Edward Smith endeavoured, with 
the utmost kindness and tenderness, to lead 
Luke to speak of himself and his companions, 
his present feelings and future prospects: the 
guilty conscience was absorbed in its fears, 
and Luke threw such reserve into his manner 
that his old school-fellow could not penetrate 
it. He confessed he was unhappy : his face, 
once so handsome had now a bold, bad ex- 
pression, which told of recklessness and self- 
indulgence. So Edward formed his own con- 
clusions, and when, with much prudence, and 
discretion, he had said what he thought had 
the best chance of finding its way to the hear- 
er’s heart, the two young men separated ; and 
I both felt that there was a great gulf between 
I" them, and that it was a relief to part. 

There was, indeed, a gulf between them, — 
i a gulf as wide as that which is set betwixt 
I heaven and hell : for the one was living with- 


198 


LUKE SHARP. 


out God in the world, with vice and worldliness 
for his idols, and knowledge, falsely so called, 
for his trust ; the other was walking humbly 
with his God, and making His^law the rule of 
his life, and striving to glorify Him by strict 
and willing obedience. 

And now the catastrophe which the reader 
has long forseen was at hand. Ford’s scheme 
was ripe for execution, and Luke was too 
hopelessly involved to have a chance of escape. 

No sooner had the unhappy youth left the 
shop to join Edward Smith, than Barney, with 
a face of hypocritical sorrow, entered his mas- 
ter’s chamber, and with much seeming hesita- 
tion, and even affected tears, intimated to him 
that circumstances had come to his knowledge 
which led him to the conclusion that Luke was 
dishonest, and was even ungrateful enough 
to be robbing his benefactor. He spoke of 
'Luke’s expensive way of dressing, of the sums 
of money he had seen in his hands of late, and 
finally declared how, the previous evening, he 
had watched him quitting his apartment, and 
busying himself in hiding a hag of cinnamon. 


LUKE SHARP. 


199 


The sick man was deeply shocked, and still 
more so, when, leaning on Barney’s arm, he 
entered the warehouse and found that a rob- 
bery had been committed. 

He was about to send for Luke and ques- 
tion him ; but this, as Barney knew full well, 
would spoil all ; and had Mr. Atkins persisted 
in his intention, Barney would have taken 
care to give Luke notice to escape. But even 
then there might have been a risk of subse- 
quent explanations. 

“ No, sir,” said the wily miscreant, “ if you 
will be guided by me, you yet may save the 
unfortunate youth, by giving him a shock such 
as he will not forget to the longest day he 
lives. He supposes you to be too unwell to 
leave your chamber, and takes advantage of 
your infirmity to rob you. From something 
which he dropped incautiously, I suspect he 
means to enter the warehouse about nine this 
evening. Let me wheel you there, and when 
he opens the door let hrs injured benefactor be 
the first object that meets his eyes. If he 
has not a heart of stone,” added Barney, appa- 


200 


LUKE SHARP. 


rently with deep emotion, “ such a sight must 
turn him from his evil ways for ever ! ” 

The old man, anxious that his nephew 
should not be made a public example, and 
desirous, if possible, to save him, entered into 
the scheme, and did as he was recommended. 

At nine o’clock, when Luke returned home, 
Barney assured him that all the inmates of 
the house were occupied, and that now was 
his time. “ Do you go to the warehouse, and 
I will stay at the house door and watch.” 

Luke left him, and with a palpitating heart 
Barney listened to his- retreating footsteps : 
he has reached the bottom of the passage ; is 
mounting the stairs ; has got to the landing. 
In another moment his fate is sealed. Barney 
stretched out his neck to see what happened, 
but all objects were hidden in the gloom of 
night. 

On a sudden, there was the sound of an 
opening door, followed by a loud exclamation 
of surprise and horror. The door was in- 
stantly banged to, and locked. Luke, at his 
topmost speed, was bounding down the stairs, — 


LUKE SHARP. 


201 


nearer, nearer, nearer. He tears along the 
passage, and throws himself upon Barney. 

“ Let me out, Barney, let me out of the 
house, or I shall kill some of you. I’m ruined, 
lost, undone ! My uncle has discovered that 
I have robbed him. Oh, save me, save me ! 
help me to escape ! ” 

Instantly Ford muttered in a deep, low 
voice, ‘‘ Fly and hide yourself at once. Go 
to Levi Abrahams; he will hide you, and 
disguise you too.” He opened the door, and 
Luke rushed into the street. Ford watched 
him till he was out of sight, and then burst 
into a laugh. “ My eyes ! how he did spin 
along ! Well, I’ve finished the young man’s 
business handsomely, and now I must look 
after the old one. Ha, ha, ha I what fools 
people are ! Ha, ha, ha ! ” 


LUKE SHARP. 


PABT V 


T was a hazardous game that the shop- 



man and the Jew had been playing, 


and one which the slightest accident 
might have ruined. But persons in their con- 
dition are ready to run great risks in the hope 
of accomplishing their nefarious purposes, for 
their feeling is, that they may gain much, and 
can lose hut little. They are, indeed, in a 
great measure, reckless as to consequences, for 
they have put away from them the fear of 
God, and as their hand is against every man, 
and every man’s hand against them, they have 
ceased to be affected by the motives which 
influence the common mass of their fellow- 
creatures. 


LUKE SHARP. 


203 


Tt was a hazardous game, but they had cal- 
culated (and, as the event proved, correctly) 
that the chances were in their favour. They 
had studied the characters and tempers of the 
persons with whom they had to deal; they 
had laid a plan for a most extensive system 
of plunder, which they felt could never be 
effected till Luke was removed ; the state of 
Mr. Atkins’ health, and the probability of his 
speedy death, made them grudge the loss of 
every day that Luke remained in the shop ; 
they therefore did not hesitate to compromise' 
themselves to a certain extent in their plot 
against the unhappy youth, for they had no 
fears but that, even if things turned out con- 
trary to their expectations, they would be 
able to screen themselves, and pervert Mr. 
Atkins’ judgment with respect to the whole 
transaction. The only serious difficulty arose 
from the question, what was to be done with 
Luke. And this was got rid of by the arrange- 
ment, that Abrahams should receive him into 
his house, and on the first opportunity pro- 
vide a situation for him among some of his 
acquaintance at a distance, — a thing not hard 


204 


LUKE SHARP. 


to be accomplished by one who was in com- 
munication with the receivers of stolen goods 
in all the chief towns of the kingdom, and who 
was in the habit of transacting business with 
them “ on terms of mutual accommodation.” 

When, therefore, in his terror and dismay, 
Luke rushed forth into the street, and, obey- 
ing Barney’s direction, darted along the back 
lanes, and tortuous passages of this close- 
packed town, till he reached the well-known 
establishment in Rogue’s Alley, he had only to 
approach the door, and it was opened, and the 
Jew, n> the blandest possible tone, invited him 
to enter and rest himself. 

He had been standing at the window, he 
said, accidentally (the truth being that he had 
been watching there for an hour in anticipa- 
tion of this very event), and seeing Mr. Sharp 
come down the street in such a hurry with no 
hat on, he was afraid that something was the 
matter : he ‘‘ trusted, however, that nothing 
serious was amiss.” 

Luke was too much agitated to be suspi- 
cious, otherwise, it must be presumed, he could 
hardly have helped being struck with so many 


LUKE SHARP. 


205 


coincidences all tending to render him a mere 
tool in the hands of Ford and Abrahams. He 
now only felt that in his need he had found a 
friend. And while he told his story unre- 
servedly, and confessed what he had done, he 
was so far overcome with shame, that he con- 
tinued to gaze on the ground, and so failed to 
mark the smile of satisfaction on the Jew’s 
face, and the twinkle of triumphant roguery in 
his little pig-like eyes. 

“ Very unfortunate, very unfortunate cer- 
tainly,” observed Abrahams, when Luke had 
told his tale. “I fear you were imprudent. 
Let me advise you, on all future occasions, to 
look through the key-hole before you insert 
the key. Ah, true, I know what you would 
say; it was dark. Well, well, accidents will 
happen sometimes ; there is no guarding 
against them. But. we must lose no time in 
removing you out of harm’s way ; for the affair 
is sure to get wind, and even if your uncle 
were disposed to pass it over (which, from all I 
have heard of him, is not likely), there have 
been so many cases of the same kind lately, 
and that officious, meddling, busybody, old 
18 


206 


LUKE SHARP. 


Grinderstone, sets our police to ferret out such 
matters with so much activity, that I declare 
nohody seems safe for a moment. It is all I 
can do to keep out of trouble myself. Now, it 
would be a thousand pities if such a promising 
young man as you” (Luke could not help 
remembering when this piece of flattery had 
been last used) “ were to have all your pros- 
pects in life blighted for such a ‘two- penny 
halfpenny business ’ as this.” 

“ Oh, sir,” exclaimed Luke, clasping his 
hands, “ I feel that they are already hopelessly, 
irrecoverably blighted. I wish I were dead, I 
wish . . . 

“ I wish, Mr. Sharp, you would allow me 
to speak. What good would your dying do 
to yourself, or to anybody else? I am really 
surprised to hear a person of your penetration 
talk such stuff. And as to your prospects 
being blighted, if you will only be guided by 
me, I think I can put you in the way to get on 
in the world.” 

Luke assured Mr. Abrahams that he should 
be grateful for his advice. 

“Well, then, you shall stay here to-night, 


LUKE SHARP. 


207 


and to-morrow evening, when we’ve changed 
your dress, and dyed your hair a little, you 

shall go off to B ; a cousin of mine, ]Vfi\ 

Israel Manasses (I dare say you have heard of 
Money Manasses), has a ready-made clothing 
warehouse, and employs hundreds of hands.” 

“ I never could be a tailor,” exclaimed Luke 
in despair at the prospect which seemed to 
open upon him. 

“You are hasty, Mr. Sharp,” replied the 
Jew meekly, “ and you must allow me to say 
that too much haste has m.arred many a clever 
fellow’s fortune. I was not going to recom- 
mend you to be a tailor; but in all large 
establishments of this kind the journeymen 
employ a reader; there is a vacancy in that 
office now, and I have heard so much of your 
literary accomplishments, that I should have 
no scruple in recommending you as admirably 
qualified to fill it.” 

“A reader?” said Luke hesitating, for he 
did not understand the term. 

“I will explain,” answered the Jew. “The 
journeymen and master subscribe to support 
a gentleman to read aloud to them during 


208 


LUKE SHARP. 


their working hours. Conversation must flag 
occasionally, and they like to he amused by 
the daily papers, — the last good novel, and so 
forth.” 

Luke’s countenance brightened at the propo- 
sal, and still more, when he heard the amount 
of his weekly wages. He said he thought 
nothing could have suited him better, and he 
would thankfully accept the situation. 

And so Luke removed from Birdsley; and 
the coast was left clear for Ford and Abra- 
hams ; and a wholesale system of plunder 
commenced, and was carried on till the death 
of Mr. Atkins. 

But their day of reckoning came at last. 

We must now hasten to the conclusion of 
our tale. From boyhood to youth ; from 
youth to opening manhood we have pursued 
the melancholy, hut most instructive history of 
Luke Sharp. We have seen the utter use- 
lessness of an education without religion : we 
have seen that talent and mere worldly know- 
ledge, without Christian principle to direct and 
control them, are the most perilous possessions 


LUKE SHARP. 


209 


that we can have. We have traced liUke’s 
career step by step, and have established, 
beyond all fear of contradiction, 'that to that 
cause, and that cause only, his miserable 
career was attributable. 

Hitherto, we have entered into the minute 
details of his conduct with much particularity. 
But we can do so no more. We cannot pol- 
lute our pages with scenes which would make 
our readers blush, or introduce them to com- 
pany and conversations from which they 
would turn with loathing and disgust. The 
erring boy has become a wicked man ; and 
with advance of years came progress in the 
vices of maturer age. We can, therefore, only 
speak generally of the incidents of Luke 
Sharp’s future career. 

It was not to he expected that a situation 
recommended by Mr. Levi Abrahams would 
have much in it that could approve itself to 
the mind of a well-disposed person; and cer- 
tainly, there was much which passed before 
the eyes and ears of all who were engaged in 
the establishment, which ^w^as presided over by 


210 


LUKE SHARP. 


Israel Manasses, which could hardly fail to 
harden them in vice, and accustom them to 
look with contempt on the ways of truth and 
honesty. 

But with the business-part of that establish- 
ment Luke had no concern. He was engaged 
to read. And from morning to night he did 
read ; hour after hour, till voice and strength 
were gone. But he soon got accustomed to 
his task. And if bodily fatigue had been 
all the evil which accrued to him from his 
new position, there would have been little 
to deplore in his change of circumstances. 

But what does the reader suppose was the 
nature of the works read ? They were those 
of the most exciting and wicked kind. Those 
cheap publications which attain their enormous 
circulation by pandering to the worst passions 
of the populace, which, with unceasing activity 
and great talent, labour to overthrow all the 
institutions of the country, moral, social, and 
political ; which denounce religion as the lie 
of priests, loyalty as folly, morality as against 
nature; which set the poor against the rich, 
and incite them to rapine and rebellion as the 


LUKE SHARP. 


211 


proper means of avenging their wrongs ; which 
labour continually to brutalize and sensualize 
the entire population of the country, — these 
were the most favourite books perused. Next 
came those which were filled with the scan- 
dals and follies of what is called “ high life,” 
or those journals, say Sunday newspapers, and 
cheap publications, whose pages contain the 
history of races, and prize fights, and boxing 
matches, and which are the chronicles of slang 
and blackguardism. 

Other works wtm translations of the profli- 
gate memoirs and licentious novels of modern 
France, in which all the worst propensities of 
our fallen nature are excused, in which crime 
is glossed over or made attractive, and in 
which murder, and adultery, and kindred vices 
are represented as virtues in a “ hero.” 

Worst of all, were a class of books, — the 
shame and disgrace of our own press, — in 
which the doctrines of infidelity are taught, 
in which fools are persuaded to say in their 
hearts that there is no God, and in which they 
are exhorted to tremble no more at the appre- 
hension of a judgment to come. 


212 


LUKE SHARP 


Month after mouth was it Luke’s occupa- 
tion to corrupt his own mind, and the minds 
of those who listened to him, by such poisons 
as these. And to his shame be it spoken, that 
instead of quitting the situation at once, when 
he knew what was required of him, he con- 
quered his lingering scruples and remained. 
And then, by degrees, the wicked longings 
which had filled his imagination were shown 
in overt acts. 

His previous history has evidenced that 
low company had its charms for him, and as 
his mind became more debased, he loved it 
better still. When working hours were over, 
he joined those who had been meditating evil 
all the day in practising it. At the tavern, at 
the play-house, at the political meeting, at the 
resorts of the profligate and profane, who now 
so frequently to be seen as Luke? And 
still, as he became worse and worse, he en- 
deavoured to unlearn and forget the lessons of 
his youth, and to silence that voice which, in 
spite of him would keep whispering in his 
ear, alike in the crowd as in the solitude, that 
hy and hy he must die, and that after Death 


LUKE SHARP. 


213 


must come the Judgment. In one word, he 
was doing all [le could to become in faith 
what he was already in practice, — an Infidel ^ — 

I that is, the wickedest, the weakest, the most 
' credulous, the most contemptible of men ! 

Well, indeed, may it be said, that “ a little 
I knowledge is a dangerous thing.” The super- 
' ficial smattering which he had gained had 
j been just sufficient to make him vain of what 
he did know, without suggesting to him the 
thought, that what he did not know was im- 
measurable, and that although, unhappily for 
: himself, he had picked up just enough to 
j enable him to talk fluently, and to startle 
I people who took all he said for granted, he 
was, in fact, profoundly ignorant. Puffed up 
I with the information he had gleaned from 
Penny Cyclopaedias and Mechanics Institutes, 

, he set up as a scoffer and caviller at every- 
i thing which was beyond his own comprehen- 
1 sion, and thus made his very talents the instru- 
! ments of his own destruction. 

Better, far better that he had never learned 
to read, than so abuse his privilege. Better 
that a mill-stone had been bound round his 


214 


LUKE SHARP. 


neck, and he had been drowned in the depths 
of the sea, than that he should have infused 
one doubt into the mind of any who as yet 
were not infected with the plague of unbelief. 

It was only to be expected that one who 
had cast off the fear of God would soon set all 
human law at defiance. And so it fell out. 

The huge, overgrown manufacturing town 
in which he was residing, long teeming with 
ignorance, vice, and misery, had now become 
a hotbed of sedition and treason. The doc- 
trines of Chartism, Socialism, and all their 
kindred abominations, had for some time past 
been diligently inculcated on the people as 
the only means of relief from the evils which 
they were suffering. Agitators, as they Avere 
called (that is to say, wandering vagabonds, 
who were the paid emissaries of more power- 
ful revolutionists, and the profligate adherents 
of that species of patriotism, which is “ the 
last refuge of a scoundrel),” were noAV peram- 
bulating the country, and preparing the way 
for a grand outbreak. 

To some of these Luke joined himself. 


LUKE SHARP. 


215 


They were glad of his aid, for he was a fluent 
speaker, and with a little practice, was able to 
make a powerful impression on the bad pas- 
sions of his auditors. And he was no less 
glad of the engagement, for he was well paid ; 
and the continual excitement and change of 
scene was far pleasanter than the exhaustion 
and confinement of the tailors’ work-room. He 
soon became one of the most noisy declaimers 
on Liberty, Equality, the Rights of Man. 
What he meant by half the terms he used, he 
hardly knew, but they went down with the 
populace, and that was all that he, or those 
who employed him, cared about. Their real 
object Avas, of course, wholly diflereiit from 
their professed one. They cared nothing for 
the wrongs and sufferings of the poor. They 
cared for nobody but themselves. And their 
hope was, that when they had stirred up the 
Avorking population to insurrection, they Avould 
be able to enrich themselves in the times of 
plunder and confusion which would ensue. 

Unhappily their poor, misguided tools be- 
lieved them, and trusted to their promises. 
And so at the appointed time the insurrec- 


216 


LUKE SHARP. 


tionary movement commenced, and spread 
from town to town, and from district to dis- 
trict, till all the great manufacturing counties 
of England were in a state of open rebellion 
to the laws. In the cotton factories, the pot- 
teries, the collieries, the mines, labour was at 
a stand. Every place was filled with rioting 
and violence; neither life nor property were 
secure. The dwellings of the clergy and ma- 
gistrates were fired; shops were broken into 
and ransacked ; the vaults of liquor-merchants, 
and the breweries, were plundered. Many 
lives were lost ; many perished in the flames 
they had kindled ; many drank themselves to 
death ; many were killed in the attack or de- 
fence of public buildings, and not a few fell 
under the sabres of the soldiery, or were shot 
by them in the crowded streets. For several 
weeks a state of things continued, which is 
too fresh in the reader’s recollection to render 
any further details necessary, but which af- 
forded much ground of apprehension to all 
peaceable and well-disposed persons. 

At length the government took vigorous 
measures. The ofiended law vindicated its 


LUKE SHARP. 


217 


authority. The insurrection (as is always the 
case) was put down without the slightest diffi- 
culty ; and, (as is always the case, too, under 
similar circumstances), the persons who were 
found to have suffered most were the poor 
mechanics and artizans, who, being urged on 
"by designing persons, had exposed themselves 
to the violence of the fray. 

Then came the hour of retribution. The 
goals were filled with prisoners, and those who 
escaped the vengeance of the law, returned 
home to their starving families, with prospects 
a hundred-fold more gloomy than those which 
had tempted them to rebellion. 

A special commission, as it is called, was 
issued; that is to say, the Glueen sent down 
her judges to the places where the assizes are 
usually held, and they proceeded at once to 
try the prisoners who had been taken in charge 
for their offences. 

And when the Chief Justice, as is usual, 
had made his charge to the Grand Jury, he 
finished his address by ‘‘expressing his ear- 
nest hope that the administration of criminal 
justice under the special commission, , would 
19 


218 


LUKE SHARP. 


teach the guilty that speedy punishment 
would follow crime ; would teach those who 
were inclined to subvert the law, that it was too 
strong for them, and that the honest part of 
the community, the lovers of peace and order, 
would unite with the authorities to put down 
the evil-doers with a strong hand. He would 
only,” he said, “ in conclusion, further sug- 
gest, that the effectual, and only effectual 
method of counteracting the attempts of wick- 
ed and designing men to undermine the 
principles of the lower classes, and render 
them discontented with the established insti- 
tutions of their country, was the diffusion of 
sound RELIGIOUS knowledge among those 
classes who are the most exposed to their 
attempts, and the education of their children 
IN THE FEAR OF GOD, SO that all might be 
taught that obedience to the law of the land, 
and to the government of the country, is due, 
not as a matter of compulsion, but of principle 
and conscience.”* 

Then the trials began. And among the first 

* See Chief Justice Tindal’s Charge at Stafford. Octo- 
ber 3, 1842. 


LUKE SHARP. 


219 


of those ringleaders who were brought to the 
bar of justice, for their treasonable attempts in 
urging the people to rebellion, was the misera- 
ble man whose history we are now bringing to 
a close. 

Luke Sharp was put on trial for his life. 
And when the Jury had heard the evidence 
against him, without the slightest hesitation 
they pronounced him guilty. And their deci- 
sion involved a sentence of Death. 

And now how shall 1 describe Luke’s condi- 
tion, when, after hearing the fatal verdict, he 
was led back to his cell, until the fate of some 
of his other companions in wickedness was 
decided ? In a moment his whole life seemed 
to pass in review before him ; with incon- 
ceivable rapidity and clearness the follies 
and sins of a life-time seemed each with a 
separate voice to speak and invoke the ven- 
geance of that God Whom he had insulted 
and denied. How hateful then were all those 
things which most he had prized ! how con- 
temptible his vanity! how useless and worse 
than useless, his knowledge and cleverness / 


220 


LUKE SHARP. 


The scales had fallen from his eyes. He saw 
at length his condition in all its frightful 
reality and truth. He no longer dared to | 
trifle with his conscience. He felt as sure I 
that God’s Word was true as of his own 1 
existence. No doubts, no scoffing, no cavils | 
now ! but dark despair and woe unutterable. 

His days numbered ; a shameful death ; and j 
beyond the grave, — what he dared not think. ; 
Only dim forebodings of the undying worm, 
and fires that never can be quenched, of a lake 
of fire and brimstone, and the smoke and tor- ' 
ment rising up eternally, joined with the 
remembrance of the long-neglected denuncia- 
tion of Scripture, that the servant which - 
knew his Lord's will^ and prepared not him- 
self, neither did according to His will, shall ] 
be beaten with many stripes.” 

“ Many stripes ! many stripes ! many \ 
stripes ! ” These were the only words that 
the wretched young man uttered. And as he ■ 
paced up and down his narrow cell, hundreds 
of times did he gasp them forth : “ Many \ 

stripes ! many stripes ” ' 

Then he sank exhausted with agony of 


LUKE SHARP. 


221 


mind on his pallet, and once more the scenes 
of childhood, youth, and manhood, passed 
before him; aye, and his thoughts wandered 
hack to the wide meadows, and winding river, 
and venerable tower of Yateshull Church. 
And the companions of his boyhood, and the 
old familiar faces of the villagers ; nay, the 
very games and sports in which he had joined, 
and the sound of the church bell, and plaintive 
voices of the choristers, with whose solemn 
chants in days of yore his own voice had 
mingled, — all came hack. 

And then revived the shuddering thought, 
that hopes, and friends, and opportunities, he 
had cast them all away; that he had never 
tried in ^earnest to be religious ; that even his 
best emotions had passed away, and produced 
no results. Mere natural virtue,” that is, 
the virtue of the feelings^ “ wears away when 
men neglect to deepen it into religious prin- 

, ciple.” 

I This had been Luke’s case. He saw it all 
clearly enough now ; now^ when it was too 
late. He had known his Lord’s will, but had 
not prepared himself 


222 


LUKE SHARP. 


“ Many stripes ! many stripes ! ” sobbed forth 
the conscience-stricken man. “ Many stripes ! 
many stripes ! ” 

Suddenly he hears footsteps. The bolts are 
withdrawn. The officers of the prison lead 
him back into the court, and they whisper to 
him to be a man, for he is not to die. 

Ah ! had he known what was in store for 
him, would his heart have bounded with joy 
at the intelligence, and smote against his ribs, 
as if struggling to burst its narrow walls? 
Life ! Ltife I If he were but permitted to live, 
he felt as if he cared not what befel him, — he 
could endure it all. 

But there is a life which is worse than 
death. 

“ Young man,” said the venerable judge, 
when in due course he proceeded to pass sen- 
tence on Luke, “you have already heard, in 
my previous remarks to your fellow-culprits, 
that your life is to be spared. But you must 
not think that, because you escape a shameful 
and ignominious execution on the gallows, 
that, therefore, the offended laws of your coun- 
try have no further claim for satisfaction. 


LUKE SHARP. 


223 


Noj you have been an enormous offender, and 
it is but fit that for the sake of others you 
should suffer enormously. I can assure you 
that it is only after the greatest doubt, hesita- 
tion, and misgiving, that we have finally 
determined to recommend you to the mercy of 
the crown. For had it not been for you and 
some others, hundreds of your misguided 
countrymen would not have been guilty of 
breaking the law. Sedition and disloyalty 
would never have entered their minds but for 
you. 

I am told that you have been well edu- 
cated for your rank ; and that you had, at least 
in early life, what many of those who stand at 
this bar have not received, — a Christian edu- 
cation. So much the Worse for you, since you 
subsequently failed to profit by it. 

“ Your conduct on your trial, and the 
charges brought home to you, show that you 
have a considerable share of natural cleverness. 
So much the worse for you, since you have 
turned your talents to such bad account. 

“ You are very young, and may have many 
years of life before you. But how many 


224 


LUKE SHARP. 


soever those years may be, I now announce 
to yon, that, as the punishment of your hein- 
ous offence, and as a warning to others, they 
must all he passed in a condition of the most 
hopeless and depressing misery. You must 
be held forth as an example of the fate of those 
who lead on their ignorant fellow-subjects to 
crime, and who abuse their own talents, by 
making them minister to their bad passions. 
In your history must be read an admonition to 
those who think that, provided they have 
knowledge, they can do without religion. 
May that God Whom you have forgotten 
bring you to repentance and amendment ! 

“Your sentence is, that you be transported 
for the term of your natural life, to such place 
beyond the seas as her ‘Majesty shall appoint; 
and I forewarn you, that in just judgment on 
your crime, that place will be the most penal 
settlement of the penal colonies.” 

Misfortune is almost sure to destroy mere 
worldly friendships; but Luke had still a 
friend: one whom, no long time since, he 
turned away from, and perhaps disliked for 


LUKE SHARP. 


225 


his truthfulness, but whose worth he now 
fully appreciated. It has been already men- 
tioned that Edward Smith was living at Staf- 
ford, and, therefore, he had many opportuni^ 
ties of visiting Luke in his affliction. He 
came to him in prison continually, and did all 
that he could before the trial to prepare Luke 
for the fate which seemed inevitable. 

He was present at the trial, and when the 
sentence was passed, and Luke removed to 
the gaol, the young architect revisited his 
unhappy school-fellow once more. It was a 
tearful meeting: but when the first excite- 
ment was over, and Luke’s spirits were some- 
what revived at the reflection that his life 
would be spared, he almost reproached Edward 
for not sharing his joy. 

‘‘ I do share it,” said the latter, I do share 
it, for you may have full time to perfect your 
repentance, and almost anything is tolerable in 
comparison with the thought of a death of 
public shame.” 

“ Why, Ned, you speak as if transportation 
were almost as bad as death. There are peo- 
ple in this prison who have told me of convicts 


226 


LUKE SHARP. 


dying worth fifty thousand pounds, and who 
say that if a man is steady and well-behaved 
he may soon he happier and more comfortable 
than ever he was at home.” 

“ Luke ! ” replied his friend in a solemn 
tone, “ you must not deceive yourself. Did 
those persons ever speak to you of Port Arthur, 
or Norfolk Island ?” 

“ No, I never heard them.” 

“ Perhaps few have done so. The innocent 
have no concern with such places. The guilty 
either never return from them, or dare not 
trust themselves to speak of them.” 

“ Why, Ned ? What are they like?” 

“ Do not ask me, Luke. Perhaps things 
are mended there.” . 

Nay, but do tell me. It is better to know 
the worst.” 

. No, Luke,” said Edward Smith sadly and 
earnestly, “ I cannot. I have read that on the 
frowning rocks of those distant lands, there 
ought to be written the dismal words, ‘ Leave 
hope behind, all ye who enter here !’ But oh, 
Luke, dear Luke, no place can be hopeless 
wherein God’s mercy may yet be sought. 


LUKE SHARP. 


227 


And bad as things may be, He will be with 
you to support and comfort you if you do but 
seek Him ; and when trouble is heaviest, help 
will be nighest. Do but turn to Him with 
your Avhole heart, and guilty as you have 
been, and are, — deeply, deeply as you have 
insulted and offended Him, — He will not cast 
you off for ever: nay, if He sees you a true 
'penitent, He will never leave you nor forsake 
you. Though you pass through the waters, 
He shall be with you ; and through the fire, it 
shall not burn you ! ” 

Three years passed away. And Edward 
Smith was still advancing in worldly pros- 
perity, and in the regard and good opinion of 
his employers. And he had a happy home of 
his own, and a gentle, affectionate wife, and a 
little, merry-hearted, innocent child. And bet- 
ter than all, he was serving God- faithfully in 
his generation, and walking steadily in His 
faith and fear. Need I say that he was 
happy ? 

Yet at times a shade would pass over his 
face when he thought of poor, lost liUke, 


228 


LUKE SHARP. 



Often and often would he rise in the night 


pray for him. Often would he beseech God to 
bring him to repentance, and then (if it seemed 
good to Him) to shorten his trial. 

And when the following letter, penned in a 
trembling hand and blotted with tears, reached 
hi!n, he felt that his prayer was about to be 
accomplished. They were the last tidings 
that he ever received of Luke Sharp, — who 
was probably soon afterwards laid in that 
saddest of all cemeteries, the thickly peopled 
burial ground of Norfolk Island, which, — 
(meet accompaniments of a graveyard where 
rows of murderers lay side by side !) — is em- 
bowered among thick, melancholy groves of 
the tear-dropping manchineel, and whose sole 
outlet is towards the dark, moaning, agitated, 
sea ! 


Convicts’ Hospital, Norfolk Island. 


a 


“ My dear and constant Friend, 

“ I almost hesitate to write to you, for 
why should your kind heart be pained by re- 
collections of such a wretched, guilty being 


LUKE SHARP. 


229 


as I am? Yet you bade me write to you, 
and you are too true to say what you did not 
mean. And I have another reason for writing, 
for I am anxious, before my miserable career 
is ended, to thank you once more for all your 
goodness to me, and to assure you that, by 
God’s goodness, I have been brought to feel 
how deeply I have offended Him, and that the 
desire of making my peace with Him is now 
the one thought that fills my mind. 

“ I am very ill with a cough, and spitting of 
blood, and pain in my side, and the wardsman 
tells me the surgeon says there are no hopes. 
Hope, I am sure there is none for me here; but 
I trust there may be hope for me beyond the 
grave: for God is more merciful to us than 
we are to one another, and I know that His 
Blood is efficacious enough to wash away the 
guilt of sins even as great as mine, and I know 
that you have prayed for me, and will pray 
for me, which is an unspeakable comfort, — 
for there are times when I feel almost afraid 
to pray for myself. 

“ I could not write to you on the voyage, nor 
yet when I got here. I had no opportunity of 
20 


230 


LUKE SHARP. 


doing so till I was sent to the hospital. Else 
I should have told you something I heard at 
Sydney — (that is the chief town of New South 
Wales, and the place to which convicts are 
often brought before they are transferred 
here ; for, as I dare say you know, this is a 
small island in the midst of the sea, — a thou- 
sand miles from Sidney, and eighteen thou- 
sand miles from England, — being the place to 
which the worst otfenders, such as I have 
been, are transported). Well, I saw a man 
at Sydney who had lately come from Port 
Arthur,* which is another of the penal settle- 
ments, and in some respects even worse than 
this. Now in case you should not know it, 1 
must tell you that this Port Arthur is situated 
in a place called Tasman’s Peninsula. It is 
almost, but not quite, an island, being con- 
nected with the mainland by a narrow neck not 
more than three or four hundred yards across. 
And in order to prevent the convicts from 
escaping, there is a deep trench cut across 

* Port Arthur is situated at the southern extremity of Van 
Pieman’s Land, — an island, as the reader is aware, of consider- 
able extent, lying at the southern extremity of Australia. 


LUKE SHARP. 


231 


this strip of land, in front of which there are 
a row of lamps, and not far from the lamps, a 
row of dogs, so placed as not to be able to 
destroy each other, but near enough to pre- 
vent any person passing between them. Now 
these dogs are immensely powerful, and being 
always kept chained and fed upon raw meat, 
they are so ferocious that even the persons 
who have charge of them dare not come within 
the length of their chain, but are compelled 
to throw their food to them from a distance.* 
This settlement is a most dreary, desolate 
spot, and the convicts are, I am told, chiefly 
employed in digging coal. To this place it 
was that Barney Ford, and Levi Abrahams 
were transported four years ago, wheh, as you 
remember, they were found guilty of plunder- 
ing my poor uncle. I often used to think on 
the voyage out whether I should see them 
again, and I always prayed that I might not. 
I owed nothing but evil to them, but I never 
wished them such a fate as befel them. After 
being at Port Arthur for some time they 
made an attempt to escape, by crossing the 

* See Appendix 


232 


LUKE SHARP. 


neck of land which I have told you. But 
no sooner had they comeKvithin reach of the 
dogs, than they were knocked down, and 
before the soldiers could come to their assist- 
ance, they were torn asunder, limb from limb, 
by the infuriated animals.* 

And now I must speak to you of myself. 
When first my eyes rested on this place, I 
thought it must be the most beautiful spot in 
the universe, and I think so still; but oh, 
Edward, think what a place to live in that 
must be, where all the greatest criminals were 
crowded together, and where, till very lately, 
no minister of religion ever set foot ! It was 
as if those who punished our bodies would not 
be satisfied until they had ruined our souls 
eternally likewise. You may judge what the 
consequences were. The wickedness was so 
great, the depravity so horrible, that I think 

* In the Pari. Rep. 1838. (Appendix, p. 310) a list is given of 
convicts who absconded from Macquarie Harbour, Van Die- 
man’s Land, between January, 1822, and May, 1827. They 
are in number 112. Of these 70 were starved to death in the 
woods : three were drowned : two shot by soldiers who pur- 
sued them : seventeen were brought back and executed : eleven 
murdered each other, of whom some lived on each others flesh. 
Of the fate of the remaining nine nothing certain is known. 


LUKE SHARP. 


233 


they must have shocked the very devils in 
hell ; nay, such monstrous forms of crime 
developed themselves as were never heard of 
in Europe, and are too bad to be alluded to in 
the Scriptures.* Let a man be what he may 
when he comes here, it is next to impossible 
but that he should become Avorse. As one 
poor fellow said to the Judge who condemned 
him, ‘ When a man comes here, a man’s heart 
is taken from him, and there is given him the 
heart of a beast.’ t And how can it be other- 
wise? The most depraved, and the least de- 
praved, are herded together night and day ; 
Avear the same dress of degradation, labour at 
the same hopeless toil, Avith the lash sounding 
in their ears continually. So they labour 
on till the very hair on their head is scorched 

* “I have known the well-disposed prisoner rejoice, after 
labouring all day, to be allowed to watch an unenclosed build- 
ing during the inclement night, rather than be locked up 
there” (£. e. in the barrack with the other prisoners). “I 
have known the infirm man invoke torture elsewhere, so that 
he might not rest there. I have known the blind consider his 
privation of sight a blessing, as shutting out wickedness from 
one sense of his knowledge.” — Uclathornc’s R. C. Mission in 
Aiistralasia, p. 17. 

t See Judge Burton’s Charge (1835). Pari. Rep. 1837. Ap- 
pendix 13, p. 289—293. 


234 


LUKE SHARP. 


to the same yellow hue as their sun-burnt 
bodies, and till their limbs stiffen with the 
weight of their chains, or of the burdens they 
are compelled to carry. And they grow more 
and more wicked, till they change the very 
meaning of language, and call evil good, and 
good evil : * and if a man is seen to pray, he 
is flung down, and abused, and insulted, and 
trampled on.t Hell itself cannot be worse 
than this place. And so the convicts think it. 
It is not long since thirty-one were con- 
demned to death for a conspiracy : but some 
were reprieved. And when the names of 
those who were to die were read out, they 

* “ So perverse” was their most ordinary language, “that 
m their dialect evil was literally called good, and good, evil , — 
the well-disposed man was branded wicked, whilst the leader in 
monstrous vice was styled virtuous.” — UUathorne’s R. C. Mis- 
sion, p. 40. 

t Ullathome. Pari. Rep. 1838, p. 16. Also in his pamphlet 
on the R. C. Mission he says, (p. 17) “ Wherever the convict 
goes, — to work, to church, to his meals, — he carries, tied to his 
person, his small canvass bag, containing his only little necessi- 
ties, and perhaps a prayer-book, otherwise they would be stolen 
in a moment. Whilst the poor creature who, with a more timid 
conscience, and keener sense of his condition, seeks to sepa- 
rate as much as possible from the rest, and to heal his seared 
conscience by the prayer of repentance, offers a fine game for 
the chase of ridicule, and is hunted down with a mingled pack 
of scoffs, jeers, obscene jests, and rough practical jokes.” 


LUKE SHARP. 


235 


one after another dropped upon their knees, 
and thanked God that they were to be de- 
livered from this horrible place, while those 
who were to be spared stood mute and weep- 
ing.* 

“ Oh, may God bless you, Edward, for 
having warned me ‘ not to give up hope’ even 
here. These words of your’s have come into 
my mind when I have been all but yielding to 
despair. And perhaps I should have yielded 
1 to despair, had my trial gone on much 
i longer, — had I been compelled for long to 
I hear and see things which are breaking strong 
men’s hearts daily. But I was not tempted 
beyond what I was able to bear. God, in His 
mercy, sent me my present illness, and now I 
am sick and, I suppose dying, I find kindness 
even here. At least, I am not molested as I 
used to be. 

“ But do not think I complain. All I have 
experienced of shame and pain I have de- 
served, aye, and a hundred-fold more. But I 
write this in order that you may warn young 
men in England to take care lest they do any- 

* Ullathorne. Pari. Rep. 1838. p. 27. 


236 


LUKE SHARP. 


thing which should cause them to be sent to 
this place of torment, and in order that you 
may let people know what transportation to 
Norfolk Island really is. Tell them my his- 
tory, and what it was that ruined me. Tell 
them to seek knowledge if they will, but that 
knowledge without religion is POISON and 
DEATH. 

“ And now, once more, God bless you. 
Pray for me, pray for me that I may have 
grace to pray aright, and that He Who had 
mercy for the penitent thief, may have mercy 
even upon me. To Him alone I look, to His 
merits, and His intercession. 

“ Farewell ! God bless you and requite you 
for all your goodness to one who never can 
repay you, — 

“ Your most guilty, but most loving 
Friend, 

“ LUKE SHARP.” 


APPENDIX. 


“ Tasman’s Peninsula,” says Col. Arthur, m 
his evidence before Parliament, (see Report on 
Transportation, 1837 [4510] ), “ is cut off from all 
the rest of the colony of Van Dieman’s Land, with 
the exception of the communication by Forester’s 
Peninsula with the settled districts. The neck 
I between Pirate’s Bay and Norfolk Bay is guarded 
by a detachment of soldiers under the charge of 
an officer, with a line of very fierce dogs from 
: shore to shore. These dogs have been so trained, 
( that if there is the slightest noise made they imme- 
diately give the alarm, either by day or night ; and 
, so successful has been such a guard, that it is not 
' known that more than two prisoners have ever 
I escaped from Port Arthur : one of these was taken, 
the other was supposed to have perished in the 

I 

i 


238 


APPENDIX. 


woods. The general description of the whole of 
the Peninsula is exceedingly desolate. Some con- 
siderable veins of coal have been found, and the 
convicts are employed there in working coal 
mines .... The worst class of men are worked in 
chains at the hardest labour.” 




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